


I am yours

by Damask_rose



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, F/M, Friendship/Love, Jealous Fenris (Dragon Age), Jealousy, Mage Hawke (Dragon Age), Male-Female Friendship, Oral Sex, Protective Fenris, Resolved Sexual Tension, Sex, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-03
Updated: 2020-02-21
Packaged: 2020-07-30 05:57:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 34,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20092393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Damask_rose/pseuds/Damask_rose
Summary: Hawke meets a certain green-eyed elf, though the path to love is far from easy ...





	1. First encounter

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first piece of fanfic, and my first piece of writing in a very long time. I started writing it for practice, but given my penchant for things Dragon Age and a particular green-eyed elf, it's developed a bit from the short piece I originally intended. I was also inspired by many of the Fem Hawke/Fenris fics I've read on here, so lots of kudos to all the other Fenris fans out there (and apologies to Anders fans – I've given him short shrift so far)! 
> 
> It's a work in progress, so please bear with me if you're looking forward to more.

She first noticed him leaning against the bar in The Hanged Man, his tall frame lit by the flames of the fire burning in the grate. He had his back to her, and was engaging the barman in idle conversation, though he sounded bored. His appearance was striking, and almost took her breath away – a shock of white hair, from which protruded a beautiful pair of elven ears, a lean but muscular frame, wide shoulders and a narrow waist, with long legs that were perfectly accentuated in leather leggings. But it was the swirl of pale tattoos – or what looked like tattoos – covering his arms that really intrigued her. The overall effect was quite alluring, apart from the spikes adorning his armour, which warned any would-be assassins to stay away. Or admirers, she mused. 

Suddenly, as though feeling the intensity of her gaze, he turned around and looked at her for a second, raising a black eyebrow in a half-question, before she averted her eyes, cheeks burning with embarrassment. She raised her drink to her lips and took a long sip of wine, but it only exacerbated the steadily growing heat in her upper body. After what felt like an age, she turned back to look only to see that the elf had his back to her again. Marian, you fool, she thought. It had been a long time since anyone had really caught her eye, or since she had felt any kind of interest in flirting, but old habits died hard. And seeing Isabela with a different man (or woman) most nights made her wonder if she was missing out on something. 

‘Who is it this time, Hawke?’ chuckled a voice at her elbow. She looked over to see Varric crinkling his eyes at her, and sighed. ‘Oh Varric, is it that obvious? I was rather hoping my face wasn’t an open book to you.’

‘I’m afraid so. Your thoughts are so loud, I can hear them from across the room,’ the dwarf winked at her. ‘You really need to get yourself a fella – or maybe Isabela could help you out?’

She rolled her eyes. ‘Really, Varric, haven’t we been here before? You know that Isabela and I are just friends. Apart from that one night where we both got a little drunk …’ 

Varric grinned. ‘I don’t think that Isabela wants to forget that night as easily as you do, Hawke. But hell, get yourself somebody soon – I can’t stand to see you staring into the bottom of another cup of wine night after night. It’s not like you don’t have the suitors queuing up to woo you!’

She sighed and slowly pulled herself to her feet. ‘You know that if there was anyone special, I would have done something about it by now. I’m sorry Varric – just put up with me for a bit longer, ok?’

Varric watched her stumble across to the door and smiled. As she reached the door, he noticed a tall elf standing at the bar shift in the shadows, turning to watch them leave. ‘C’mon Hawke, in your state, you don’t need any more admirers tonight,’ Varric said, and with that, he pushed her out the door.

As they reached her Uncle Gamlen’s house, Hawke patted the dwarf affectionately on the arm. ‘Thanks old friend, but really there was no need. I could have made it by myself.’

‘What are friends for? And this was just in case. You take care now – I think you’ll be nursing a hangover come the morning!’

She grinned. ‘Maker knows, Varric, you’ve seen me in this state often enough to know I can deal with a bit of wine. But thanks. I’ll see you in the morning. Don’t forget we’ve an appointment with some mercenaries.’ She kissed him gently on the cheek, making him splutter, and manoeuvred him in the opposite direction, before he could fuss over her further.

Varric laughed. ‘Careful now, you’ll make Bianca jealous. But fair enough my lady, I’ll leave you to it then. Sleep well.’ With that, the dwarf strolled off into the shadows, taking his beloved crossbow with him. She watched him go, with a smile on her face. He really was so endearingly sweet. Pity he was so wedded to Bianca – he deserved someone to really look out for _him_.

Stumbling into bed, having barely managed to strip off her outer clothing, such was her exhaustion, she waited for sleep to claim her, but it would not come, until she had lain so long in bed she did not know whether she had truly slept at all. Hours later, she drifted into a half-asleep, half awake state, a dreamless sleep that did nothing to give her peace.

***

Fenris tossed and turned, but could not sleep. His thoughts kept turning to the dark-haired woman he had seen in The Hanged Man that night. He had been intrigued by the way she had kept watching him when she thought he hadn’t noticed. He was used to people reacting to him badly – men treated him with suspicion, women as something to be feared. Usually people stared at him when he entered a room, for all the wrong reasons. But no one had ever looked at him the way this woman had. And of course, she was quite beautiful, though she was surprisingly modest for someone blessed with good looks. He couldn’t remember being intimate with anyone, and it had been a long time since he had even wanted anyone. But this woman aroused more than just his curiosity. Thinking of her sitting there, self-consciously drinking cup after cup of wine without realising how completely and utterly attractive she was, left him with a stirring in his loins that he fought to resist relieving.


	2. The recruit

Hawke approached the docks slowly, still feeling rather delicate after all the wine she had ingested. She saw Isabela from a distance, looking at her curiously.

‘My dear, are you quite well? Varric told me you were in your cups last night.’ 

Hawke smiled queasily at Isabela and waved a hand away. ‘I’m fine, really Isabela, nothing that a bit of killing won’t cure! So, where is that dwarf anyway?’

‘Over here, Hawke! And I’ve brought a new recruit to meet you!’

Hawke looked over Isabela’s shoulder to see Varric standing there, and with him – by Andraste’s ass, if it wasn’t the tall elf she’d been staring at in the tavern last night. He was an incredibly handsome elf, with large green eyes, a long straight nose, and wide, full lips. And of course, legs that went on forever. Now that she could see him clearly, she marvelled at the markings on his chin and down his neck. She started to wonder how far down they went, and feeling her face starting to flush again, she tried to push the thoughts to the back of her mind. On a bold impulse, she fought back her embarrassment and stared him straight in the eye, this time feeling gratified she could finally meet his gaze without wavering, though he didn’t smile back.

‘My name is Fenris,’ said the elf, in a gravelly but alluring tone. ‘Varric tells me you are rather short on numbers. Being at a loose end, well, here I am.’ He made a slight bow, but Hawke wasn’t quite sure if he meant to be mocking, or polite. 

‘Pleased to meet you Fenris – I’m Hawke – Marian Hawke.’ She bit her lip, a nervous habit which her brother Carver always told her was irritatingly predictable – but kept staring at him, unable for even a minute to tear her eyes away from the beautiful form before her.

Fenris shifted on his feet awkwardly. ‘Is there a particular reason why you keep staring at me, Hawke? Do you have a problem with elves?’

Hawke’s face fell. ‘Of course not! I have always loved the company of elves, uh, that is to say, I have friends who are … I mean …’ She stopped short, realising that Fenris was teasing her. At least, she assumed he was teasing her. She tried again.

‘Forgive me, I am very good at tying myself in knots. Trust that I am very grateful to have you join us – you look like a formidable fighter.’

Fenris smiled, and Hawke hoped the relief didn’t show on her face. ‘Of course, Hawke. Now lead the way. I believe you have a challenge for me?’

***

One rather satisfying fight later, three dead mercenaries, and some more coin in her purse, Hawke stretched like a cat to ease her stiff muscles, before reaching out for the wine bottle. Fenris, who had joined her at the table, watched her with interest. He had fought alongside her and seen her incredible strength, and he was glad of a moment to be close to her and to talk to her without distraction. Even the fact that she was a mage did not put him off, though he was usually wary of mages. There was something about this one – she seemed different. Clearly Marian Hawke was no ordinary woman.

Fenris finally broke the silence. ‘So, you’re a mage? I noticed you casting spells back there.’ 

Hawke looked at Fenris and tried to contain the nervousness in the pit of her stomach. ‘I am – does that bother you?’

He scowled. ‘Free mages are dangerous. What’s your agenda, Hawke? Are you out for power, survival, or something else?’

Hawke tried to contain the laughter in her voice. ‘Survival, perhaps? I’m an apostate, Fenris. I’m not half as free as you think I am. I’m likely to run out of luck one day. Do you not enjoy my company then? If so, you are free to leave.’

Fenris ignored her last remark. ‘I know I sound bitter – but I was enslaved by a magister. He made me his pet. So you’ll forgive me if I have a dim view of mages.’

She cast her eyes down, suddenly feeling uncomfortable. ‘Fenris, perhaps you’ll tell me more about your past sometime, if you want to, of course?’

His face softened. Perhaps he had been too harsh. ‘Maybe another time, Hawke. But let me ask you something else. Did you ever want to return to Ferelden?’

Hawke bit her lip. ‘I’ve thought about it. But I’ve made my home here now. Why do you ask?’ She noted that Fenris seemed to be genuinely interested in what she was saying, the way he was looking at her with those big green eyes. Really, he was quite captivating. 

‘It must be gratifying to have that option. To be able to put down roots. I envy you. Ever since I escaped, I’ve had to keep running. But I’m tired of that life, which is why I’ve decided to stay here. I’m not going to run away any longer.’ He hesitated, worried that he was boring her. Hawke didn’t want to hear this. ‘Forgive me, let us talk of other things. ’

Hawke had not probed too deeply into Fenris’ past yet, preferring the elf to reveal what he wanted, if he wanted, but she was intrigued to hear more about his former master, and how he’d acquired those swirling tattoos. She knew he was an escaped slave, but not much more. It would take time and many more bottles of wine, perhaps, before he felt comfortable enough to open his heart to her. 

‘It’s fine, Fenris. I’m here if you ever want to talk. I hope that we can be friends.’ She smiled at him before reaching for her cup of wine, but inadvertently knocked it off the table instead.

Fenris watched her face flush pink and allowed himself an inward smile. Really, her tendency to blush so easily was very endearing. He noticed that her eyes were blue, an incredible deep blue, with long, full lashes. Her lips were without rouge, but full and pink, and she had a gap in her front teeth that showed when she smiled. He also noticed, with a jolt, that when she leaned over to get her fallen cup, that her ample breasts strained against the tightness of her top. He suddenly had a vision of himself bending Hawke over the table, ripping at her top, exposing those lovely breasts, pulling down her breeches and sliding into her slick wetness right there, the rest of the tavern be damned. 

Fenris tried to suppress his thoughts as he poured her another cup of wine. More than anything, he wanted her to be his friend, despite the lustful thoughts creeping into his mind. She provoked a feeling in him that was unfamiliar. Besides, he would not take advantage of such a lovely creature when she was not fully in control of herself. He was no beast, even if others saw him that way. 

‘Friends,’ He said. ‘I would … like that.’ He raised his cup. ‘Here’s to friendship!’

Hawke smiled, and raised her cup to join his. ‘To friendship!’


	3. I am no slave

Over the next few months, Fenris frequented The Hanged Man often enough for him to be treated as a regular by the bar staff, which was rather disconcerting, given the fact that he had never stayed around anywhere long enough to call home. He and Hawke spent a great deal of time in each other’s company, as he fought at her side with Varric and Isabela, and drank with her in the evenings. Being in their company so often meant that they were starting to feel like family. It was an odd feeling – he had been on his own for so long. Quickly, he pushed the memory of his time with the Fog Warriors to the back of his mind – they had been his friends too, and he had killed them all upon the orders of his master, knowing that that life must surely come to an end. Sometimes he felt uneasy in the company of his new friends – at the back of his mind, he felt sure that it couldn’t last, as though happiness was something that he could never attain, and did not deserve.

As they got to know each other better, he talked to Hawke about his former master, and how he had got his markings, which she learned, were infused with lyrium. ‘And that is why I run no more,’ Fenris told her. ‘Sometimes you have to turn and face the tiger. It has been three years, but I can’t truly believe that Danarius has given up.’ 

As Fenris headed out of Kirkwall to Sundermount with Hawke and the others on their latest mission, his thoughts naturally wandered onto the dark-haired mage. He had grown to respect her, even trust her, and he now counted her as his friend. He was also bemused and pleased at her attempts to flirt with him, something he had never expected – every man who came into Hawke’s path seemed to fall in love with her. Sometimes women, too. She had that effect on people. Her laughter was infectious, and she could bewitch a whole room full of people. Was he starting to be bewitched by her as well? 

Suddenly he was brought back to reality by a shout from above him. He looked up to see several armed men advancing on them. ‘You there!’ one of them shouted to Hawke. ‘You’re in possession of stolen property. Hand over the slave and you’ll be spared!’ So, Danarius had finally caught up with him. As Hawke cried, ‘Fenris is no slave!’ he turned to face the Tevinter slavers with a snarl.

Soon, it was all over. He and Hawke, Isabela and Varric had made short work of the hunters, but one remained alive long enough to talk and disclose the location of Hadriana, Danarius’s apprentice, before Fenris broke his neck. I was a fool to think I was ever free, he thought bitterly. The bitch was holed up in the holding caves north of the city. At last, he would make her pay. 

Hawke had never seen anything like it. The way Fenris put his hand through Hadriana’s chest, the look of hatred on his face as the light expired from her eyes, even after she told him of the existence of his sister, Varania. In that moment, Fenris both terrified and enthralled her. And yet, Hawke had made a bad judgement, asked him if he wanted to talk, but he was so full of hatred and pain that he’d snapped at her as she tried to reach out to him. 

She’d let him make his own way back to Kirkwall after that, deciding to give him some space. She’d been foolish to think she could comfort him after what he’d been through. _He’s been on the run for three years, Marian, what did you expect?_ The way that he had looked at her after killing Hadriana, practically spitting in his hatred of mages, of magic. ‘What does magic touch that it doesn’t spoil?’ he had said with bitterness, and she had no answer. 

Fenris was beautiful, unique, but damaged – stupid to think that she could fix him with a few friendly drinks. She stayed away from The Hanged Man that night, not wanting to risk bumping into him in his current state. She spent a few restless hours in her room, trying to read, then thought, _Fuck it_, and headed out the door.


	4. Amatus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smut alert (well it was about time)!
> 
> NB amata/amatus = Tevene for loved one

Fenris was anxious. He wanted to apologise to Hawke, knew that the hatred inside had got the better of him, but she wasn’t in her usual place at the Hanged Man when he sought her company. He was starting to wonder if she was avoiding him, or worse, if something bad had happened. He paced the streets for some time, thinking he might go over to her Uncle Gamlen’s place. Eventually he decided he could wait no longer, and started out towards Hawke’s estate. He hadn’t got very far when he saw someone in the distance. _Hawke_. His heart leapt a little, recognising her silhouette coming towards him, her shoulders hunched against the wind. 

‘Hawke, I – I was just coming to find you,’ he explained. She pushed past him without a word, then stopped as he hesitated. ‘Well?’ she said, ‘Aren’t you coming with me?’

‘Where are we going?’ Fenris asked, confused. ‘Your place, of course,’ Hawke replied. ‘I’ve had enough of mother.’ 

Fenris had to break into a jog to keep up with her. ‘Hawke, wait! My place isn’t exactly … well, it’s not …’

‘I know, Fenris. I don’t care. Have you got any of those bottles of Agreggio left, by the way? 

‘Er, yes, there’s plenty in the wine cellar. Wait …’ 

They arrived at Danarius’s mansion and she turned to face him. She looked so serious, so pretty, she almost took his breath away. 

‘Fenris, we have to talk. What happened back there in the caves …’ 

He sighed. ‘Hawke, I was coming to apologise. I took out my anger on you, undeservedly so. I was … not myself. I’m sorry.’

‘I had no idea where you went. I was worried about you.’ Hawke’s stare was making him feel guilty.

‘I needed to be on my own. Hawke … this hate … dogs me wherever I go. To feel it again, to know it was they who planted it inside me … it was too much to bear.’ Fenris turned away. ‘Ah, I don't want to burden you with this. I should be alone,’ and he walked away from her towards the door of the mansion.

Hawke followed him, and reached out to touch his arm. ‘Fenris, please don’t leave.’ She brushed his arm lightly, and he nearly jumped out of his skin at her touch. His markings suddenly lit up, and he reacted instinctively, pushing her back with force against the wall, as she gasped in shock. He glowered at her for a few seconds, clearly overwhelmed by what he was feeling, until the lyrium under his skin faded, along with his anger. He didn’t know if he was reacting merely to her touch, or to the fact that it was the touch of a mage.

Hawke quickly leaned forward and kissed him. Before he knew what was happening, he was kissing her back, passionately. Then she was pushing him against the wall, and Fenris put his arms around her, smelling sweat and dirt and the faintest whiff of perfume on her skin. His hands were moving up and down, exploring her body, and he felt himself hardening against her, pressing into her thigh. Hawke sighed into him, her body responding, moulding herself to his, as his hands settled on the curves of her rear. 

As the kiss broke, and finally they surfaced for air, he grabbed her hand and without a word, led her into the mansion. As she looked around she saw what a mess the place was, dust and dirt in every corner, cobwebs (ugh, spiders!) and what looked like … a body on the floor. Surely, it couldn’t be? Fenris noticed her nose wrinkling and coughed. Suddenly, the tension was broken.

‘I apologise. This house belonged to my former master, Danarius. It’s not exactly a place to call home, but it serves me well enough.’

‘Fenris, it doesn’t matter,’ Hawke smiled. ‘I just want to be in your company.’ Fenris looked at her lovely face. _Oh Maker_, would she look at him like that again.__

Feeling a little embarrassed, Hawke suggested that they talk for a while, and Fenris readily agreed. So over the next couple of hours, and two bottles of wine, they did. She was surprised how readily the words poured out of him, so guarded had he seemed when they first met. His eyes grew dark and his face brooding as he talked of his past. 

She felt both anger and pain at the thought of this handsome creature being so broken and manipulated, tortured to the point of losing his memories, his former self, everything he knew. Hawke’s brother Carver meant so much to her, her mother Leandra, not so much, but she _was_ her mother – and still the pain of losing her sister Bethany in the Blight lingered on. The thought that Fenris had nothing, had no one, made her want to reach out to him. 

‘Hawke, I’ve never spoken of any of this to anyone before. I’ve never wanted to. Perhaps this is what it means to have a friend.’ Fenris smiled at her and reached for the wine bottle. Hawke seized her chance. 

‘It _could_ mean more than that.’ She couldn’t quite believe the words coming out of her mouth. Had she ever been so bold? It must be Fenris, she thought. He’s having an effect on me. Well, no going back now.

Fenris’s large green eyes widened in both surprise and amusement. ‘A tempting offer. Hawke, you’re a beautiful woman. Is there no one else who has your … attention?’

‘You think I’m beautiful?’ The memory of the kiss in all its passionate intensity flashed into her mind, and she blushed. 

‘I’m sure I don’t need to repeat the obvious. But you didn’t answer my question.’

Hawke, emboldened by the wine in her system, looked deep into his eyes. ‘No, Fenris, there is no one else.’

He swallowed, and looked away for a second. ‘I’ve never felt like I could … that I wanted to be close to anyone. When the lyrium was burned into my skin, the pain was so great, that the memories of my former life were lost. If there was someone before, I don’t remember.’

Her fingers lightly brushed his arm, the lyrium markings flaring brightly again before dulling.. ‘Fenris, if you like, you could be close to me.’

There was a sharp intake of breath from Fenris as he reacted to her touch. He wasn’t used to anyone touching him, being so close to him. It wasn’t painful, but his senses felt heightened, his skin more alive than before. And the aching between his legs was becoming more intense. 

Hawke sat up, concerned. She hadn’t meant to hurt him. ‘I – I’m sorry, Fenris. Did I cause you pain? It happened before, when I first touched you. When we … kissed.’

‘It’s fine. It’s not painful.’ He moved closer to her, eager to be nearer. He could feel the heat coming off her body in waves and he ached to touch her back. She was almost too beautiful, he could not simply believe that she would succumb to him so readily, without question.

‘I never wanted anyone, Hawke … until now.’ He reached out a hand to touch her face, and she closed her eyes and let him caress her. As she opened them, she saw Fenris coming closer, and his soft dry lips touched hers. She eagerly kissed him back and pulled him into a deep embrace, her mouth opening for his tongue. Fenris growled and probed her mouth with his tongue, hot, deep and wet. His hands moved over her body, brushed her chest, the swell of her hips, and settled on her round bottom, squeezing and pulling her tightly against him. She wasn’t wearing her armour, only a tunic and skirt, which clung to her figure nicely. He had removed his own armour earlier, and he was grateful that only a couple of layers of fabric separated their bodies. 

‘Hawke, do you really want to do this? With me?’ Fenris looked at her, unsure. He couldn’t remember ever being with _anyone_, and this – this was happening almost as if in a dream.__

Hawke looked up at him, her face flushed. ‘Fenris. I want you. Now.’

Fenris smiled, amused at her candour. ‘You say what’s on your mind Hawke, I’ll give you that. Come here.’

He grabbed her hand and led her over to the bed. Suddenly, he felt embarrassed, bringing Hawke into this crumbling mansion, a barely satisfactory living arrangement, compared to what she must be used to. ‘I – I’m sorry I don’t have better surroundings to offer you.’

‘Shut up.’ Hawke grinned at him, and started fumbling at his breeches. Fenris was breathing heavily, and shifted his weight on the bed to help her gain access more easily. She undid the laces and moved them down, then slid her hand down the front of his smallclothes to his throbbing erection, which strained at the fabric of his pants. It was long and hard and already damp from the effects of their passionate embrace. She ran her fingers up and down it as he moaned, eager to get him as hard as possible. Not to be outdone, Fenris pulled at the laces at the top of her tunic, and eased the material apart. _Venhedis_, she had nothing on under there, and her breasts spilled out as he watched. 

Hawke leaned back, a little shy, suddenly exposed under the heat of Fenris’s gaze. Her dark hair fell over her face and he swallowed, his mouth dry, realising just how aroused he really was. He reached out to her and filled his hands with her beautiful breasts. Each nipple was swollen and pink, and responded instantly to his touch. He leaned down and took one into his mouth, and Hawke sighed as he sucked and licked, his hot mouth leaving searing kisses across her chest. She looked into his eyes, noting the ferocity of his gaze, and her heart skipped a beat as the fire burned intensely within her. Could this really be happening?

She reached out and touched his long pointed ears. _Maker_, thought Fenris, her touch was electric. She brought her mouth up to kiss the edge of one of them, her tongue curling around the tip, along the edge, her mouth kissing and caressing, as he fought to contain himself and let out a low growl. He wondered if she had any idea how sensitive his ears were to her touch. Hawke sighed, moving her mouth to his earlobe, down his neck, kissing his markings. ‘Fenris, you are so beautiful.’

Fenris looked at her, feeling drunk. No one had ever called him beautiful before. What had he ever done to deserve such a gorgeous creature? ‘Hawke, I need you. I need to be inside you.’ The words burst forth from his lips with a desperate urgency. She lifted her arms obligingly as he removed her top, then let her skirt and pants shimmy down her legs so that she was completely naked. As she did so, he removed the rest of his clothing, his eager erection now freed from his pants and springing forth, and her eyes lingered longingly over his muscled torso, his flat stomach and the wiry hair bristling above his cock. He met her gaze and smiled, then looked over her own body hungrily, taking in the curve of her thighs, her waist, and the dark curly hair between her legs. 

Fenris could wait no longer. He had to touch her, _there_. He pushed Hawke back onto the bed and climbed on top of her, and slid his hand down, down, his fingers on her wetness, then sliding inside her to touch the sweet nub at the centre. She was soaking, more than ready for him, and he was excited at her obvious arousal. He pushed his fingers deeper inside her, marvelling at how wet she was, and how good it felt to touch her at her very core. How she burned for him. For _him_, he thought jealously. He almost wished the rest of the tavern brutes could see him now, he who they called a lowly knife-ear, with this beautiful woman. Or that fool Anders, who was always sniffing round her like a dog. The fact that Hawke had chosen him and not the mage made his heart swell with pride.

‘Fuck me, Fuck me Fenris!’ Hawke cried, the throbbing between her legs growing to an uncomfortable intensity. She could feel his hard cock against her, seeking entry, the tip glistening and already wet with his seed. It was clear that he wanted her, and very badly.

Fenris grinned. She was not going to have her own way just yet. ‘What is it you want me to do to you, mmm?’ he teased, his fingers continuing to move inside her, enjoying the feeling of her juices on him and her breasts squashed against his chest, their softness contrasting with his own hardness. 

Hawke panted, in such a state of ardour that she was finding it hard not to come. That gravelly voice of his was just heightening her arousal. ‘Fenris, _please_,’ she begged. He answered her by planting soft kisses along her thighs, resulting in more moans, before bestowing a kiss at the join of her legs. It was time. 

‘Hawke, tonight, here and now, you are mine, and I am yours,’ he roared, and pushed against her, sliding inside her in one swift movement. ‘_Fasta vass_,' he cursed in Tevene, 'You are so tight.’ He groaned and pushed harder, moving deeper inside. 

Hawke moaned loudly. Fenris’s large cock inside her, filling her up, was exquisite. It was better than she could ever have imagined. ‘It has been so long since I lay with anyone. I haven’t wanted anyone, the way I want _you_.’

Fenris grabbed her leg and lifted it over his shoulder, moving deeper inside her, pushing himself all the way to the hilt. He had never felt anything like this before. He felt truly alive for the first time. His whole body was buzzing. He moved in and out of her, slowly at first, then faster, until he had a steady rhythm, his cock pulsating, the sensation of her feeling so good around the length of his shaft. She felt beautiful around him, so wet, so soft, as though this was where they truly belonged, him inside her, together, complete. 

‘Fenris, your markings … you’re glowing,’ Hawke gasped in wonder at the elf’s skin, the lyrium lighting up so he seemed to become something otherworldly, almost ethereal. 

‘Marian … I can’t … I’ve never felt …’ He couldn’t speak, he was so consumed by the feeling of being inside her. Hawke felt as though her heart was falling into her stomach – he had never called her by her first name before. He took her mouth again, forcing his tongue inside her roughly just as his cock did the same, and she bit his lip and cried out as she felt the heat of her orgasm already beginning to burn. Sensing this, Fenris withdrew, and bent his head down to Hawke’s engorged clit. Smelling her saltiness, he dipped his tongue inside her, and lapped at her nub, as she writhed beneath him and entwined her fingers in his hair. He could taste himself in her folds, and somehow that made him more aroused, to know that he had put something of himself in her already. She was his. She was so exposed, so open for him, that it made him feel more protective of her, somehow responsible. Now, he laid claim to her entirely.

He nibbled at her clit and felt the onrush of her orgasm, as she cried out his name, her back arching on the bed, her fingers dragging across his neck and leaving faint red marks down his back as she came. Then in one deft move, he turned her over on the bed and without warning, entered her from behind, pounding away at her wetness as she screamed on the bed before him, his fingers on her clit, rubbing, urging her to come again. He could feel his own orgasm threatening, and he slowed his pace, wanting their lovemaking to continue as long as possible. 

Fenris growled as he continued to thrust inside Hawke, moving his hands to her breasts and teasing the nipples, before moving his hands back onto her bottom. He didn’t know how, but there was some kind of basic urge driving him, taking him over. His mouth moved to her neck, kissing, biting, leaving marks wherever he went. Yes, he wanted to mark her. _Mine_, she _must_ be mine, he thought. And with every deep thrust of his cock inside Hawke, she cried out. ‘Fenris, I can’t … hold ... on … I must come, please!’ As she bucked her lovely round arse against him, he was barely able to contain himself. 

He moaned. ‘Yes Marian, come for me now, I want to feel you tighten around me!’ He quickened his pace again, thrusting harder, his balls slapping against her behind. He could feel the onrush of the orgasm now and could not prevent his release, as he held Hawke down on the bed, her breasts bouncing up and down with the vigorousness of their coupling. He contained them in his hands, squeezing, caressing. Finally, violently, he ejaculated into her with a roar, pumping her full of his seed, as they came together and she screamed loudly beneath him. He continued to expend himself into her, until, finally spent, he moved down on top of Hawke, still inside her. He waited for the intense beating of his heart to subside, and after several minutes, he reluctantly withdrew to lie beside her on the bed. 

Hawke turned on her side to face him, as she felt his seed pooling inside her and leaking down her legs. ‘That was …’

‘Unexpected,’ Fenris finished for her, with a smile on his face. ‘Hawke, you truly are unlike any woman I have ever met. Thank you.’

She grinned. ‘You don’t need to thank me, Fenris. I wanted this. I wanted _you_. I still do, in fact,’ she purred, running her hand over his chest, and circling his nipples with her finger, as he gasped. ‘You know what? I’m not sure I’m going to be able to walk properly for days.’

‘I hope not,’ he Fenris. ‘I want this to be a night you remember for a long time.’

Hawke pulled him down onto her chest, and sighed happily. ‘As if I could ever forget this. But can I stay with you a while? I don’t want to leave yet.’

‘Of course you can stay Hawke, if you want to. But perhaps next time we should go to your uncle’s house – no corpses there, after all.’

‘Way to kill the mood, Fenris,’ Hawke teased. ‘But … does that mean this isn’t only just for one night?’ She looked at him with hopeful eyes.

Fenris smiled at her modesty. ‘Hawke, you must know how I feel about you. I’ve wanted you since the moment I first saw you. And now I have you … I am most unwilling to let you go.’ The elf ran his hands down her naked body, warm and moist from the heat of their exertions, as she stretched languidly under his touch. He covered her hot pink mouth with his own, and murmured softly, ‘You are mine, _amata_, as I am yours.’


	5. Memories of a forgotten life

He heard voices, saying something over and over. Chanting. His vision swam before him. And then … pain. Incredible pain. He had never felt anything like it. His flesh was on fire. He heard screaming, louder and louder, until he woke with a jolt and realised it was his own.

Hawke turned to him anxiously, her eyes full of worry. ‘Fenris, what is it? You were screaming. What happened – did you remember something from your past?’

He looked haunted, a pale shell of the man he had been in their passionate evening of lovemaking. He trembled, and could not speak for several minutes. It had been so real. Was it just a dream, or was it a memory? He shuddered. She put her hand on his arm and he stiffened at her touch, as though they were strangers. She swallowed nervously, and waited for him to compose himself. This was what she had feared – that Fenris would never be truly free from his past. She had hoped she could help him, release him from his torment, but now she worried that their one night of passion had awoken something else in him, that threatened to keep him from her.

Fenris finally spoke. ‘Hawke, I began to remember. My life before. Just flashes. I …’ He hesitated, eyes downcast, and then looked away, his back to her. ‘I’ve never remembered anything from before the ritual. But there were faces … words. For just a moment, I could recall all of it. And then it slipped away …’ He finally turned to look at her, and she saw terrible pain and sadness on his face. It was more than she could bear, and she looked away quickly. It hadn’t escaped her notice that he was back to calling her by her last name, either, as though all those intimate moments they had shared only a few hours before meant nothing.

She sat closer to him on the bed. ‘But don’t you want to get your memories back?’ 

He sighed in frustration. ‘Perhaps you don’t realise how upsetting this is. I’ve never remembered anything before, and to have it all come back in a rush, only to lose it …’ He clenched his fists and opened them, as though trying to hold on to his memories, but knowing it was futile. ‘I can’t, Hawke … I _can’t_.’

Hawke felt sick in the pit of her stomach. _So this is what it feels like to have your heart broken_. She tried again.

‘Fenris, we can work through this. We don’t have to …’ She stopped, knowing that from the look on his face, there was nothing she could say to change his mind. 

He sighed. ‘I’m sorry, I feel like such a fool. All I wanted was to be happy. And here, with you, I was. I wanted … Hawke, please forgive me.’ And he buried his head in his hands.

Hawke stood up and located her clothes, scattered around the room. The pain was unbearable. Fenris had her heart, but it was in pieces, as surely as if he had ripped it to shreds with his gauntleted hands. To know that she could not give him comfort … it was devastating. 

She dressed, quickly, without saying a word. He watched her silently, unable to voice his thoughts coherently. But she couldn’t leave like this. She had to let him know. She turned to face him.

‘Fenris … I have to tell you, the night we spent together was the best night of my life. It meant _something_. You and I mean something. I won’t ever forget, and I won’t forget the things you said to me. _Amatus_.’

A single tear hovered at the edge of her lashes, before trickling slowly down her cheek.

He knew that his own heart was breaking, seeing the pain he was causing her. Hearing her words, knowing what it meant to her, was like pouring salt in an open wound. He was a fool, a coward, and she deserved better. Perhaps one day … but no, better not to think of the future. He had no future, as long as Danarius was out there, hunting him. He pulled on his smallclothes, then his shirt, feeling his nakedness suddenly as never before.

Hawke stood near the bed, waiting, but eventually her patience snapped. ‘Dammit, Fenris, don’t just leave me standing here!’ she chided, her emotions too raw and open to hide. Fenris stood, finally, and looked directly into Hawke’s eyes. Those beautiful, dark-lashed eyes, now wet with tears. He noticed she was biting her lip again. Oh, _Hawke_. 

‘Hawke, I will never fully be able to express what you mean to me. But know that last night was not a mistake. And I will never forget, either. Forgive me. Oh Maker, please forgive me!’ He was sobbing now, and she felt his pain like a knife to the heart. She moved away to the door, turned and looked at her lover in all his misery, and whispered, ‘Fenris, I love you,’ before quietly letting herself out of the mansion. 

He looked around the room, suddenly so empty without her presence. Apart from the empty wine bottles they had shared, there was nothing to suggest she had even been there, save for the rumpled sheets behind him. He stood up, full of regret, then noticed something sticking out from underneath the bed. It was Hawke’s scarf. Slowly, he pulled it through his fingers, and buried his face in the material, smelling her scent, a last vestige of everything he had lost. 


	6. Confrontation

The next few months were more than anyone could bear, least of all Varric. He watched Hawke sink deeper and deeper into herself, though she put a brave face on it of course. He’d never seen her like this before. She became so guarded, so lost in her thoughts, that he longed for the Hawke of old, with her pointed sarcasm and witticisms. Seeing Fenris equally so tortured was ridiculous. He wanted to bang those stupid kids’ heads together. They were clearly so meant for each other, but why did the elf have to mess it all up? 

Hawke took care to not stay too long in The Hanged Man while Fenris was there, feeling unable to face him while her feelings were so raw. Being a creature of habit, he would often turn up in the afternoons and drink until evening, so she took care to give him space and usually sat away from him, chatting to Varric and Isabela, though it pained her to do so. One day, however, she was on her own in the tavern, trying to decide whether or not to finish the particularly potent brew she had been served, when Fenris unexpectedly appeared. She noticed that he’d started wearing a red scarf around his arm, a scarf that she thought she’d lost ages ago, which both pleased and pained her. Was it a sign – did it mean that he still wanted her? If he cared for her that much, why did he keep her at arm's length? 

He came into the tavern, looked across the room, and saw that she was there. For the first time in a long time, his eyes met hers. He didn’t feel that he deserved her smile, deserved anything from her, after the way he had behaved. He badly wanted to speak to her, though he had no idea what he should say. He wanted to be friends, if they could ever be so again. No, he _would_ talk to her this time. He owed her that much.

Fenris strode across the room and stopped at Hawke’s table. ‘Hawke, I …’ He stopped. Nothing he could say could fill the void that was between them. But fortunately for him, he didn’t have to. 

‘Fenris, we can’t continue like this. Come, have a drink with me. I need … _we_ need you back.’ She smiled at him, actually _smiled_, and dragged a chair over for him to sit down. He caught a whiff of something, faintly, as she moved – was that elfroot? – before sitting down into the chair she placed in front of him. Fenris could scarely believe it, but then, this was Hawke, the most incredible woman he had ever met. He should not be so surprised. He looked at her gratefully. ‘I need you,’ she had said, and he knew she meant it. 

‘Thank you Hawke, I don’t deserve …’ but she hushed him by holding up a finger. ‘Fenris, I can’t pretend that you didn’t hurt me, that I’m not hurting now. And I know I can’t begin to understand what you’re going through. But if you need me, I’ll be here.’ 

He was about to speak, when the mage appeared in the doorway. _Anders_. He’d always been jealous of Hawke’s attraction to Fenris and was positively gleeful now they had been driven apart. I must not let him anger me, he thought. Hawke treats me like a man – I owe her that, at least. 

‘I see you have company, Hawke,’ Anders said, looking over at Fenris with a disdainful look on his face. ‘Though I can’t say it’s the sort of company I’d want to keep.’ Fenris stood up, feeling he’d outstayed his welcome. Hawke looked up at him in dismay. _Bloody Anders_, she thought, and just when I was finally talking to Fenris again. 

‘It’s all right, Fenris, you don’t have to leave,’ she said, trying to sound casual. Fenris smiled at her, ignoring Anders completely, and for that she could have hugged him. ‘Another time, Hawke – it was good to see you.’ And with that, the tall elf excused himself and left the tavern. 

He hung around in the shadows, waiting to see Hawke leave, wanting her to walk out on Anders, but the minutes passed and there was still no sign of her. What were they talking about in there? Finally, the door opened, but he was surprised to see Anders emerge rather than Hawke. Quickly, he moved back into the shadows, but Anders saw the movement and called out. 

‘I can see you, elf. Why are you skulking about in the shadows? You had your chance, you know. Let others try their luck.’ His eyes glinted, as though contemplating his next move. Move on _Hawke_. 

The hair on Fenris’s arms bristled. ‘You abomination, stay away from Hawke! She doesn’t want or need you!’ He took a step forward.

Anders folded his arms. ‘She does very much need me, actually. She asked me to meet her here.’ He saw the disbelief and anger in Fenris’s eyes and grinned. ‘All right, I’ll admit I was there on business, not for pleasure. However, she may not have succumbed to my charms yet, but it’s only a question of time.’

Fenris growled, and took another step towards Anders. What business? He wanted to know. ‘You may have your way, mage, but I warn you: break her heart, and I’ll kill you.’ Anders backed away, laughing, and as he turned to go, his words echoed in Fenris’s ears: ‘She certainly doesn’t need _you_, elf, and the sooner you realise that, the better.’

Moments later, Hawke emerged, and called to him before he could leave. ‘Fenris? Are you ok?’

‘What business did you have with that mage?’ he hissed, grabbing her arm. She yelped in surprise, and too late, he realised it was partly bandaged. He dropped it like a hot potato, looking sheepish. Of course – the elfroot.

‘If you must know, Anders was fixing my arm. I got a little injury recently and I needed help. Exactly what has it to do with you, anyway? We’re not together.’ Hawke fixed him with a glare. He couldn’t behave like this, like a jealous husband! He was the one who had pushed her away!

‘No, you’re right. We’re not together. I’m sorry Hawke. I don’t know what came over me. I just … don’t trust that mage.’ Fenris dug his fingers into the palms of his hands and turned away in frustration. No, he had no claim on Hawke. He had forfeited that right when he had rejected her the night they lay together. But he couldn’t just stand idly by while Anders took advantage of her generous nature. He wouldn’t. 

Hawke relented. ‘I’m not sure I trust him either, Fenris, but he is still useful. Look, I appreciate you looking out for me.’ She touched his arm with the briefest of touches, and his heart pounded loudly in his chest. It was painful, being around her. He ached for her to touch him properly, to caress him. The night they had spent together played over in his mind over and over. He had been a coward, but he could not go back. He felt wretched, then, when she took his arm. ‘Walk me home,’ she said in a small voice, suddenly looking for all the world like a little girl. They started walking back to her uncle’s place, not speaking, until all too soon she was standing on the doorstep. 

‘You know where I am if you need me,’ Fenris said gruffly, and hoped she couldn’t see the longing on his face that made his insides ache, the emptiness dull and hollow and seemingly neverending. He left her standing there, watching him fade into the distance, a stranger to himself as much as to her. She _did_ need him, but he couldn’t give her what she truly needed. Not yet.


	7. All that remains

She would enter his thoughts without warning – sometimes when he was half awake and desperate for sleep; sometimes when he was bartering at the market and he imagined Hawke making a sarcastic comment at the merchants' extortionate prices. Sometimes, even, when the sunlight pouring in through his window in the morning would remind him of how her eyes sparkled in the glow of the firelight as she sat and drank with him. 

He was trying to write, so that he could put his thoughts and feelings into words for her, but they would not come. Hawke had been teaching him how to read; at first he had been very shy, and too proud to admit it would not come as naturally as it came to others, but with Hawke’s patient encouragement, gradually the letters started to form some kind of order in his mind. They hadn’t been reading together since that fateful night in his mansion, however, and he badly missed her presence. He’d been holed up in there for days, preferring his own company, but the quietness of the mansion brought memories of Hawke that tormented him constantly.

He desperately wanted to express to her what he was feeling, but no, it was hopeless. Just then, knocking at the door disturbed him from his reverie. Fenris sighed and put down his pen, which was really just a piece of charcoal stolen from the fireplace, and walked to the door.

Isabela was there, with a frown on her face. ‘Fenris, I need you to come, now. Hawke’s mother is dead.’ She turned on her heel and began to march away, without waiting for him to answer.

Fenris’s eyes flashed in concern. ‘Is Hawke all right?’ He paused in the doorway, anxiously clenching his fists. ‘Did Anders …?’ 

Isabela stopped, and sighed impatiently, without turning around. ‘No, she wouldn’t let him in. Look, I don’t know what’s going on between you two at the moment, but right now you’re the only person that can help her through this. Just come.’ With that she walked away.

***

He found her in her bedroom, a hunched shape on the bed. She made no sound, which was almost more disconcerting than if she had been weeping profusely. He shifted on his feet, and coughed quietly to alert her to his presence. ‘Hawke, I am here. For what it’s worth.’ Then he waited.

Isabela had told him on the way to the estate what had happened – Hawke’s mother kidnapped, murdered, then reanimated by a necromancer to replace his dead wife. It was a horrific story, and even worse, Hawke had been there to witness her mother’s last moments. He had not known Leandra Amell personally, but had learned about her through Hawke’s own accounts, and saw the way her mother’s constant disapproval gnawed at Hawke’s confidence. Fenris had no family, at least, none that he could remember, until the recent discovery of his sister – that was if he could trust his former master’s apprentice to tell the truth. Seeing Hawke like this reminded him that perhaps it was time to contact Varania, if she did indeed exist. He might not have a past, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t have a future. Hopefully one without Danarius. 

After Fenris had been standing there for what seemed like an age, Hawke sat up on the bed, but didn’t face him. ‘I wasn’t close to mother. She always made it clear that she preferred Bethany to me. I think she’d almost rather I had died in the Blight. And yet … and yet, it _hurts_, Fen. But more than anything, I’m tormented by the fact that I might have got there sooner. Am I to blame, for not saving her?’ she finally whispered, so quietly he had to strain to hear her. He hesitated, not knowing what words of comfort he could give. 

‘Would it … would it make you feel better if I said no?’ he ventured, inwardly cursing himself for his clumsiness. He noticed that Hawke had used her pet name for him, which only made it harder for him not to touch her. 

Hawke moved on the bed and at last he saw her properly, eyes swollen, her face blanched and sticky from the tears she had shed in solitude. 

‘Just say _something_,’ she cried, suddenly startling him. 

Fenris stared at her. Even in the midst of grief, with a puffy face, she was beautiful. He wanted so much to take her in his arms and hold her, soothe her, stroke her hair and tell her that everything was going to be all right. The absence of her touch was a loss that he keenly felt with every passing day, but the fortress he had erected around himself was too great. He tried again. 

‘You are looking for forgiveness, but I’m not the one who can give it to you,’ he said gently. He moved closer to the bed, and sat next to her. ‘But I _am_ here.’

This seemed to have the required effect, as Hawke sighed, her shoulders relaxing, and leaned her head on his shoulder. It was the first contact they had had in months, and her touch still had the capacity to send shockwaves through him. Tenderly, with his long fingers he tucked a tendril of dark hair behind her ear. He stayed there for a long time, neither of them saying a word, until finally she slumped on the bed in exhaustion. He pulled the coverlet over her carefully, and exited the room.

Isabela was waiting outside for him, lines of worry etched across her face. ‘She’s barely eaten anything for two days, you know. Varric’s really cut up about it. Did you talk to her?’

‘I spoke with her. She feels it is her fault. She is tortured by the thought that she might have saved her mother. In time, she will recover,’ Fenris said. In truth, he didn’t know what would happen, but he resolved that he would be there for her, at the very least, as her friend.

It was clear that Hawke cared deeply for him, though he wasn’t sure how or why he deserved such affection. But how much longer could he continue keeping her at arms length? And, for that matter, did he even want to? He pushed the thought to the back of his mind, and headed for home.


	8. Wicked Grace

The door opened, and Hawke walked out on shaky legs, the first time she had ventured outside her room in days. Isabela had said goodbye to Fenris hours earlier, and was relieved to see her friend finally emerge from her enforced prison.

‘Hawke, are you ok?’

‘Hold me, Bela,’ she pleaded, and threw her arms around the pirate captain. She was warm and soft and extremely comforting, even if she did stink of wine. 

Isabela laughed throatily. ‘I should have known your handsome elf would have sorted you out. I should have brought him sooner, especially if I'd known he was going to have this kind of effect!’

Hawke sighed, and let go of her friend. ‘He’s not mine. Nothing happened. If only it _had_, perhaps I could feel a little bit human again. He was so _kind_, Bela – I was at my most vulnerable and he gave me space, respected me. Damn him, why is he so bloody perfect?’

Isabela rolled her eyes. ‘If he was so perfect, he’d be with you instead of doing that brooding thing he always does. Love is overrated anyway. You need to stop taking the weight of the world on your shoulders and live a little. It’s all so _serious_ with you lately. You need to be free, like me.’ And she gave Hawke’s bottom a squeeze. 

Hawke yelped. ‘Who said anything about love? Perhaps you’re right, and all I need is a bit of fun.’

‘Don’t get my hopes up, sweet thing,’ Isabela said. If you’re not careful I’ll take you up on that offer, if only to stop Anders pestering you.’

At the mention of Anders, Hawke stiffened. He had asked to see her several days ago, and Hawke had been too polite to turn him away. But once in her chamber, he professed his undying love. After trying to kiss her, Hawke had to let him down gently. ‘I’m a one-man woman,’ she had said. ‘You mean a one-elf woman,’ hissed Anders. ‘I don’t know what you see in him. He seems less a man to me and more a wild dog.’ 

At this, Hawke had asked him to leave. The actual nerve of the man! Since he had allowed the spirit Justice to possess him, his own judgement had been called into question. She’d liked him a lot, before the possession; liked his humour, which was similar to hers, and he could be good company on missions. But he was no longer the same person. Was Justice inside him still a spirit, or was it a demon, Vengeance? He was unpredictable. And now her own mother had met her death at the hands of a mage. Perhaps Fenris was right – what did magic touch that it didn’t spoil? 

‘Why don’t you join me in a game of Wicked Grace?’ said Isabela. ‘You could forget all your troubles, at least for a little while.’

‘All right, although I wish you didn’t always cheat,’ Hawke admonished gently, as she followed Isabela downstairs. ‘I _am_ starving though – I could even eat some of Corff’s stew!’

***

‘I’m afraid I might be a little drunk,’ giggled Hawke, as she conceded the game to Isabela. She had stripped down to her breast band, though she was still wearing her breeches (_thank the Maker_, thought Varric). 

‘A little? Why my dear Hawke, I think you might have a drinking problem,’ Isabela teased.

Hawke struggled to focus on her friend. ‘Huh, you can talk! You can drink me under the table any day. Besides, I’m drowning my shorrows.’

Varric chuckled. ‘Well, as long as that’s all you do Hawke, lest you drown yourself in wine. I swear right now I don’t know where to look!’

‘The view looks all right from over here,’ said Isabela, her eyes lingering in appreciation on Hawke’s ample chest and waist. 

‘Well, you did say you liked to stick around for the view,’ slurred Hawke.

‘I think you’ve had quite enough,’ said a stern voice, and Hawke sat bolt upright as Fenris moved into view. He was looking at her with a scowl on his face. _Aw, nug shit_, thought Varric. _Here we go_. 

‘Don’t presume to tell me what’s best for me, Fenrish. I know my own mind,’ Hawke said, suppressing a burp. 

‘I am not sure you really do,’ sighed Fenris. 

‘There you are, my dear Fen, always looking out for me,’ said Hawke sarcastically. ‘What on earth would I do without you? Well, I’m doing just fine.’ And she waved her hand dismissively.

‘Looks like it, too,’ said Fenris, raising an eyebrow. He was trying desperately to look her in the eye, but _kaffas_, the sight of her semi-naked was making it difficult to concentrate. ‘Have some self-respect, Hawke!’

‘Reshpect. Ah yes, you know all about that, Fenris. You reshpect me so much, and for that I am grateful. But sometimes all a girl wants is to be bent over the table and …’

Varric stood up hastily, cutting Hawke off. ‘Ah, I think it might be best if you leave her to it,’ he said, ignoring Isabela’s guffaws behind him. Noticing the look on Fenris’s face, he added, ‘Don’t worry. I’ll look after her.’ 

He motioned Fenris aside, adding, ‘Look, she might be making a fool of herself, but she’s making a fool of herself for _you_.’

‘I know,’ Fenris admitted. ‘This is all my fault.’

‘Well, I wouldn’t be that harsh. Her mother did just die, you know. But you broke her heart. It’s gonna take time to heal. You should probably make yourself scarce, at least for a little while. Unless, you think you can fix this?’

Fenris shook his head. ‘Not yet. I’m not … ready. I don’t know if I’ll ever be.’

‘Great,’ Varric sighed. ‘You mean I’ve got to put up with this shit a while longer? Spare a thought for the rest of us, Broody!’ 

In the background, Hawke’s head lolled forwards, and she fell into Isabela’s lap with a thump.


	9. Coming home

Fenris had ignored Varric’s protestations, and carried a snoring Hawke up the stairs to one of the empty rooms in The Hanged Man. It was the least he could do given the circumstances, and besides, she wasn’t likely to be aware of his presence in her current state anyway. He had his arms under her legs and was very aware of her soft warm skin as she pressed against him, her bare waist and the curves of her stomach reminding him of the time he had intimately explored her body. Every night since, he had been tormented by the memory of her; her scent, her skin, her softness, and dreamed so vividly of making love to her that he would wake in the morning, empty and aching with want. 

She murmured in her sleep, and wrapped her arms tighter around his waist, snuggling into his shoulder, prompting Fenris to hurry faster up the stairs. The best thing for her right now was plenty of rest. He didn’t want her waking up in the morning, full of regret, though he knew she was going to wake up with one almighty hangover regardless. 

He deposited her gently on the bed, and resisted the temptation to remove her breeches to make her more comfortable. He bent over and smoothed the dark wisps of hair from her brow and off her flushed face. His heart was beating fast, and it wasn’t from the exertion of carrying her. _You love her, you fool_, said his inner voice. If that was true, why did he keep walking away from her? 

Reluctantly, Fenris took one last look at Hawke, and then closed the door behind him. He was still waiting for Varania to make contact. He’d finally managed to compose a letter to her in his shaky penmanship, but that had been weeks ago. If he did finally get to see her, it would give him some answers, and finally allow him to put his past behind him. Then he might be able to think of a future – one which included Hawke.

***

‘Well Hawke, I like your new place,’ Varric said, walking in through the entrance of the Amell estate. Hawke had moved in some days before. ‘Let me get this straight – you’re not getting this estate as a result of your mother’s death?’ 

Isabela rolled her eyes. ‘Dwarf, must you be so tactless?’

‘It’s all right, Bela,’ Hawke said, ‘No offence taken. Actually, mother should have had the Amell estate when her parents died. She was heavily pregnant with Carver and Bethany, so never got to see the will. That’s when Uncle Gamlen took over. But now he’s managed to get in trouble with some slavers, I get the estate. Well, not for free of course. I had to buy back what was rightfully mine. But look, it’s got a writing desk and everything!’

‘Is it really worth moving out of Lowtown for a writing desk?’ intoned Isabela. ‘Won’t you miss it?’

‘I don’t miss the smells, if that’s what you mean,’ grinned Hawke. 

‘I notice there’s a copy of my book “Hard in Hightown: Siege Harder” on your bookshelf, Hawke. I had no idea you were a fan!’ commented Varric approvingly. 

‘What? Isabela, is this your doing?’ Hawke looked at the Rivaini, hands on her hips. She picked up another book from the shelf. ‘I suppose “A Hundred and One Uses for a Phallic Tuber” also belongs to you?’ She pretended to be cross, but stifled a giggle behind her hand. 

Isabela laughed. ‘It’s not my fault your library is so boring. I thought it could do with a bit of livening up. If I were you I’d keep them on the top shelf though, otherwise Sandal will be scarred for life!’

‘Best not to give him ideas – I swear he’s been swinging on the chandelier,’ sighed Hawke. ‘And there are nail marks on the bannisters!’

Suddenly there was loud barking from the adjoining room. ‘You have a dog now?’ asked Isabela, as a large mabari bounded into the room. Catching sight of Isabela, he howled loudly.

‘Sniff my crotch and I swear I’ll stab you,’ said Isabela in disgust. ‘Shoo!’

‘Strange, I figured you for a dog lover,’ laughed Hawke.

‘I don’t dislike dogs, I just don’t like having my leg humped,’ said Isabela, looking down at the mabari, ‘At least, not without dinner and a drink first’. The dog responded by sitting back and waggling his bottom, sending Hawke and Varric into fits of laughter.

‘His name’s, uh, Dog,’ said Hawke. I haven’t got around to naming him yet.’

They were interrupted by loud knocking at the door. ‘Expecting someone?’ Varric asked. Hawke grabbed her staff, which was leaning against the fireplace, and opened the door.

To her relief, Fenris was standing there. He raised an eyebrow when he saw the staff. ‘Er, sorry Fen, just, precautions, you know?’ Hawke said sheepishly. ‘Are you ok? You look serious.’

Fenris stood awkwardly in the doorway. He hadn’t seen her since the night that he’d carried her upstairs. Just then, his thoughts flickered back to the memory of Hawke, lying there half naked on the bed, and he swallowed hard.

‘Hawke, I need to talk to you.’ He looked past Hawke to see Varric and Isabela. ‘Don’t mind us, Broody,’ Varric said. 

Isabela shook her head. ‘Come on Varric, can’t you see they need some alone time?’ 

‘Just sort out whatever you need to sort out, kids. The suspense is killing me!’ Varric called, as Isabela grabbed his arm and all but pulled him out the door.

Fenris waited until they had gone, then turned to Hawke. ‘Can I come in? It’s important.’ He caught sight of the mabari. ‘You have a … dog.’ Dog looked at him and barked. 

She stood back to let him enter, and waved him into an armchair, as she sat opposite. ‘Yes, his name’s Dog – for now, anyway.’

Fenris stroked the mabari's ears. ‘A fascinating breed. Such intelligence and strength. Do you ever wonder what he thinks about?’ 

Hawke laughed. ‘I’m not always sure I want to know. He seems to like you though.’ Dog barked approvingly at Fenris. 

'He has good taste. So, this is your new place? Very grand. Though I liked the quaint charm of your old one.’

‘Not you too, Fen. I did have to share that old place with mother, Carver and Uncle Gamlen. It was cramped to say the least. Look, before we talk, I need to thank you.’

‘Thank me for what?’ he looked at her quizzically.

‘For taking care of me. Varric told me you carried me upstairs that night I, uh, overdid it. I woke up the next day and I swear the room was still moving. Anyway, I just want you to know that it meant a lot.’ Hawke smiled her gap-toothed smile, and gave Fenris’s hand a little squeeze. 

He tried not to react, though his head felt giddy and his stomach light. Maker, how did she always have that effect? ‘It’s what any friend would have done,’ he said gruffly. 

She removed her hand. ‘Perhaps. Perhaps not. Anyway, didn’t you have something important to say?’

‘Yes. I didn’t tell you, but I followed up on Hadriana’s information. And everything she said was true! I had to keep it quiet, but I managed to contact Varania and sent her enough coin to come and meet me. And now she’s here! According to the men I paid, it’s just as Hadriana said. She’s not a slave. She’s a tailor, in fact.’

‘But you think it’s a trap? That Danarius knows?’

‘The more it seems he doesn’t know, the more certain I become he does! Come _with_ me Hawke, I need you there when I meet her.’ 

Her heart leapt at his admission. He had come to her in his time of greatest need. _He needed her_. She would not let him down.

‘Of course, Fen. When do you want to go?’

Fenris looked relieved. ‘If we go to The Hanged Man during the day, she’ll be there – for the next week at least. It would mean a lot to me.’ And he looked at Hawke intensely with his big green eyes. _Those puppy eyes_, thought Hawke. _You bastard, you know exactly what you’re doing to me_. 

‘It’s settled then,’ said Hawke, her voice betraying no emotion. ‘We go tomorrow.’


	10. Facing the past

His hands were everywhere, stroking and caressing her body with wild abandon; with a sense of authority that said _mine_, _you belong to me_. Her soft pale skin, such a contrast with his own, stretched before him, and he kissed the smooth flat plane of her stomach, trailing his mouth down and downwards to the roundness of her hips and thighs, as she stretched underneath him, sighing in her contentment.

‘Don’t stop,’ said Hawke, looking up at him with such love in her eyes that he paused for a second to savour the moment. ‘I won’t,’ promised Fenris, then brought his face to hers and murmured, ‘Marian, I love you.’ 

She smiled and lifted her hand to stroke his face. ‘I love you too. I’ve always loved you.’ She could feel him, rock hard against her, and she moved against him desperately, encouraging him to enter. He chuckled at her eagerness and obliged, pushing his way in to her soft centre, both of them gasping as she engulfed him, as he indulged his need and at last became one with her. 

Moaning, she opened her legs wider to give him access. He thrust up inside her without mercy, calling her name over and over, as her hands roamed over his back, over his glowing markings, her mouth against his shoulder, kissing, biting, urging violence.

‘Marian, Marian, _Marian_!’

‘Marian?’ 

She woke with a start to see Sandal the dwarf standing over her with a benign expression on his face. It was rather a shock after the vivid intensity of her dream. Embarrassed, she pulled the coverlet over her body and sat up. The memory of the dream lingered in her mind, her body aching and responding to Fenris’s imagined touch, and she sighed. Perhaps she should read one of Varric’s novels in bed tonight. It was likely to be the only pleasure she’d get for a long time.

‘Sandal? Don’t call me that. It’s Hawke, or Mistress Hawke,’ she said crossly. What are you doing in here anyway? Ever heard of knocking?’ 

Sandal looked at her innocently, and pointed at the door. Just then, Orana bustled in, apologising profusely. Hadriana’s former slave had entered Hawke’s service after Fenris had killed Hadriana – wanting to help her, Hawke had given her a job. Somehow she’d also acquired Sandal along the way, which was more of a curse than a blessing, given his penchant for swinging from the furniture and jumping on the bed, sometimes with Dog joining in too. He was also incapable of following all but the most basic of tasks, making Hawke feel more like his parent than employer. 

‘Orana smells like cinnamon buns,’ said Sandal, staring intently at the elf. 

Orana blushed and said, ‘I’m sorry mistress, but Dog has been scratching and whining at the door. In fact, he’s made a bit of a hole. I think he wants to go for a walk.’

‘Hmph. Well, can you take him for a walk? Hey, I’m sorry pup,’ she said, seeing the mabari sitting at her feet, his ears flat. ‘Look, I promise I’ll give you some Hawke time just as soon as I’ve freshened up.’ She ruffled his ears and he ruffed happily.

Then she remembered the previous night’s conversation with Fenris. She needed to call on him, but first, she needed some back-up – just in case things didn’t go to plan.

***

‘I’ve been waiting – I’m glad you came,’ said Fenris, seeing Hawke in his doorway later that morning. As she moved back, he saw Varric and Isabela were with her. And Anders. 

‘What the hell is he doing here?’ snarled Fenris. 

Hawke sighed, and put a hand on his shoulder, feeling his shoulders tense instinctively. ‘I’m sorry, Fenris, but it’s necessary. If Danarius should be there, then … we need him. We need all the help we can get.’

‘I don’t need anyone,’ muttered Fenris, refusing to make eye contact with the mage. Anders snickered, and Hawke turned and glared at him. ‘You’re not helping.’

She turned back to Fenris. ‘You do need us, and you can’t do this without us. We’re coming. _All of us_. And that’s the end of it.’ 

So together the five of them descended on The Hanged Man. 

***

Fenris had been overcome with emotion at seeing his sister, his only connection to a family that he no longer remembered. But the happy reunion had been brief – Varania had been used by Danarius to trap him, just as he’d feared. Watching her talk to her brother, observing her body language, Hawke instinctively knew something was seriously wrong. 

‘Fenris, we have to get out of here!’ she cried, but seconds later, Danarius walked down the steps towards them, armed guards in tow. It was too late.

The hurt and anger in his eyes was terrible for Hawke to see. How often had Fenris been betrayed like this, been used, been hunted? No wonder he had never relied on anyone but himself. _Not many people are worth trusting_, she thought. She was one of the few that Fenris trusted implicitly – and she would not break that trust by failing to protect him now. Hawke would have quite happily put a blade through Danarius’s chest, to free Fenris at long last. But she knew he would want to kill him himself. In his place, she would want the same. 

‘I never wanted these filthy markings. But I won’t let you kill me to get them!’ Fenris had never felt such anger before. His blood was boiling, his fury unleashed. He would kill Danarius now, or die trying. 

Danarius was clever. He ordered his guards to focus their attack on Hawke, knowing that she would be Fenris’s weak spot, that he would defend her with his life. The others had to work hard to push them back, and fight off the numerous demons that the magister conjured up. At one point, Hawke did indeed fall to the ground, battered and bleeding, and a panicked Fenris ran over to deflect the blade that was arcing down towards her neck. Anders quickly cast a healing spell and she was back on her feet, bloody but defiant. 

Fenris didn’t care that the relief showed on his face. Hawke was fighting for him, putting her life on the line to protect him, something he would never forget. If they ever got through this, he thought, he was going to put things right, and ask for her forgiveness. And maybe, just maybe, she would let him back into her life – and this time, he would never let her go.

Finally, it was all over. Danarius staggered back, knowing he was beaten. Fenris advanced on him, all the pent up hate and fear of the last few years showing on his face. He picked up the cowering magister as though he weighed nothing at all, and thrust his fist through his ribcage, then tossed him to the ground, crying ‘You are no longer my master!’ Then he turned towards Varania. 

‘I had no choice Leto,’ implored Varania, her hands raised to protect herself. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘Stop calling me that,’ spat Fenris.

‘He was going to make me his apprentice. I would have been a magister,’ Varania explained. _Shit_, thought Hawke, you’re really not helping yourself here. If only the elf had known just what her brother really thought of most mages, she would not have made such a foolish admission. 

Fenris was incredulous. ‘You sold out your own brother to become a magister?’

Of course, Anders couldn’t resist sticking his oar in. ‘Your sister’s a mage? You bloody hypocrite! You’re just jealous!’

Hawke turned on Anders in anger, and to his surprise, pushed him hard in the chest. ‘Shut up, Anders! How could he have known? How can you be so damned judgemental all the time? And you wonder why I can’t be with you!’ Anders moved back, visibly deflated, shocked at her outburst. 

Hawke turned back to see Fenris closing on Varania. She was begging for her life. ‘I had no choice. You’ve no idea what I’ve been through, what I’ve had to do since mother died. This was my only chance.’

‘And now, you have no chance at all,’ Fenris said bitterly, drawing his weapon. 

‘Please, you have to stop him!’ she screamed at Hawke.

Hawke had a split second to decide. It should have been Fenris’s call, but she couldn’t just let him kill his own flesh and blood. ‘Wait, Fenris, don’t kill her,’ she pleaded. Fenris was angry. ‘Why not? She was ready to see me killed!’

She faltered at his words. He had a point. But just then, Varric stepped in. ‘Trust me, elf, this is the last thing you want to do.’ 

Reluctantly, Fenris stepped back and allowed Varania to leave, but not before she had given him a parting gift, one that made Hawke regret sparing her life. Her words rang in his ears:

‘You said you didn’t ask for this, but that’s not true. You wanted it, you competed for it. When you won you used the boon to have mother and I freed. But freedom was no boon. I look on you now and think you received the better end of the bargain.’

As they departed The Hanged Man, Fenris turned sadly to Hawke. ‘I thought that discovering my past would bring a sense of belonging. But I was wrong – magic has tainted that too. There is nothing for me to reclaim. I am alone.’

There was such sadness in his eyes that she felt tears pricking at the edge of her vision. She reached out to him. ‘You’re not alone, Fenris – you have me.’ To her surprise, the trace of a smile touched his lips, and he gently caressed her face. Perhaps hope was not lost, after all.


	11. Two halves of the same person

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some long-awaited smut ...

Hawke, Varric and Isabela were sitting with Fenris in his mansion. They were all exhausted after the fight with Danarius, and Hawke had suggested they share a bottle of wine from the ample store in the cellar. Fenris had readily agreed, relieved that his ordeal was over and more than grateful for his friends’ assistance.

‘Much as I like what you’ve, er, done with the place, you know you don’t need to stay here anymore,’ sighed Varric.

'He’s even got rid of the dead body,’ Isabela said, looking at Fenris with a smirk on her face. ‘I guess Hawke must be a good influence on you.’

‘Maybe I don’t want to leave – maybe I have good reason to stay,’ said Fenris, catching Hawke’s eye. She blushed, and looked away, embarrassed, but the exchange did not escape Isabela’s notice. Instead of rolling her eyes though, the pirate captain smiled. So, they were finally going to work out their differences. About bloody time, too. 

Varric scratched his head. ‘But you could go anywhere now!’ He shrugged his shoulders. 'Freedom must be a terrible burden, I guess.’

After they had gone, Fenris paced the room for several moments, before turning to Hawke. ‘They don’t understand. Yes, I am free. Danarius is dead. But it doesn’t feel like it should. And whatever past I had is gone, like my sister. Now I have nothing.’

Hawke shook her head. ‘It just means there’s nothing holding you back. Your future is finally in your hands.’

Fenris nodded. ‘I think you’re right. I’m sorry Hawke – I know I sound bitter, but it’s not without cause. It’s just difficult to overlook the stain that magic has left on my life. There is no one left to blame. What I have done, I have done to myself.’ He sighed. ‘Perhaps it _is_ time to move on. I just don’t know where that leads – do you?’

Hawke had been waiting for this moment. She moved closer to him. ‘Wherever your future leads, I hope that we’ll stay together.’

Fenris smiled. ‘I want that, too. You know, we’ve never discussed what happened between us – that night we spent together. To be honest, I have thought of little else since.’

‘You didn’t seem to want to talk about it. I badly wanted to talk to you, but I worried that I’d push you further away – and I couldn’t bear the thought of losing you forever.’

Fenris sighed. ‘I’m sorry. I felt like such a fool. I thought it better if you hated me. But it isn’t better. That night – I remember your touch as if it were yesterday. And I have burned for you every night since. I should have asked your forgiveness long ago. I just hope you can forgive me now.’

Her heart thumped painfully in her chest at Fenris’s words. She hadn’t dared to hope that he might come back to her. The fact that he finally wanted to talk about their relationship gave her more than hope. It meant that he was finally ready to open himself up to her again.

‘I just need to understand _why_, Fen.’

He bent down towards her, though as he talked, he wouldn’t meet her eye – out of embarrassment or guilt, she couldn’t say. ‘I’ve thought about the answer a thousand times. The pain, the memories it brought up – it was too much. I was a coward. If I could go back, I would have never let you leave – I’d tell you how I really felt.’

‘What would you have said?’

He leaned in close to her, his green eyes captivating, as he finally met her gaze. ‘Nothing could be worse than the thought of living without you.’ His voice caught in his throat as he uttered the words, banishing forever any fears she had that Fenris might not want her, might no longer feel the same. 

She looked at his face, with its long, straight nose, and full, sensuous lips, so proud, so noble, and she knew she was completely lost. ‘I understand, Fen. I think I always understood.’

‘If there is a future to be had, I will walk into it gladly at your side.’ He took her hand in his, and drew her to her feet, wrapping his arms around her, as he pulled her into his embrace. It was the first time they had kissed in a long time, and the desperate need of both of them to reclaim each other meant they could barely contain their hunger for each other. They had been apart too long, and the force of them coming together at long last was like a tempest, intense and powerful in its wake.

As they kissed passionately, Fenris’s hands moved urgently at Hawke’s armour, searching for openings. He succeeded in getting most of it off but resumed kissing her, until Hawke gasped, ‘Fen, you need to take off all your spikes. You’re like a porcupine, not letting anyone get close!’

‘Well, I was only thinking of one person in particular,’ he grinned, and tore at his own armour in haste, lest the momentum of the moment be lost. At last, it lay on the floor, piled around him. He grasped Hawke’s fingers in his own, then, on sudden impulse, swept her off her feet, and carried her to the bed.

‘You seem to be rather good at taking me to bed,’ giggled Hawke.

‘I don’t know, I think I need more practice,’ Fenris said with a wink.

He had imagined their reconciliation, lived it over and over again in his dreams, but never had Hawke looked lovelier than this moment, with her cheeks flushed from the warmth of the fire, and the beginnings of their lovemaking. Her hair had grown longer since then, and curled attractively down her neck, touching her shoulders; now he ran his fingers through it, appreciating its softness. Her mouth was open, her breathing heavy, and he reached up to undo the fastenings of her tunic and breeches, helping her to remove the material as her fingers plucked at his own clothing.

_Venhedis_, she was so beautiful, standing there in her underwear, the shapeliness of her body, the pale skin and dark hair taking his breath away. Fenris had missed seeing her like this, stripped of her armour, so vulnerable. He felt privileged that it was a side that only he would ever see. 

Hawke smiled at him staring at her so intently. ‘You’re looking at me as though you haven’t seen me in years,’ she said, putting her arms around his shoulders and pressing her lips to his neck. ‘I haven’t,’ he said, meaning it, and he pulled her close to him with a sigh, his hands roaming over her body, needing to touch every inch. 

‘I’ve missed you so much. I can’t tell you what it means to hold you, to touch you like this. I felt as though a part of me was lost the night we separated.’ These last words came out in a half-sob, his voice was so choked with emotion.

‘We’re two halves of the same person,’ Hawke said, smiling. He responded by pinning her body down on the bed with his own. ‘And now we are one again,’ he finished, moving over her.

His hands closed over her breasts, and in seconds they were free, the material that bound them discarded. It felt so good to hold them again. He pinched and teased the nipples with his fingers, making them taut as she responded to his touch. He trailed his long fingers down her body, pausing at a fresh scar that marred the pure whiteness of her skin, red and angry-looking. Of course – she had acquired this in the battle with Danarius – suffered this to protect him. He kissed it gently, and she jerked as his breath tickled her skin. 

He touched her face. ‘You got this for me, Marian. I won’t forget it. I won’t ever let any hurt come to you ever again,’ he said tenderly, and pressed his mouth against hers, hungrily, his tongue flicking against hers and eliciting a loud sigh from the woman beneath him. 

‘I’d do it again. I’d do any of it again for you, Fen,’ she said softly, reaching her fingers down to his waistband, sliding inside, curling around his shaft and pulling him free. He began to moan as her fingers ran up and down his length, and he put one hand out to interrupt her so that he could remove his leggings. Seconds later, her own underwear was on the floor, and she was pushing him back onto the bed and closing her lips around his cock.

‘You don’t … have to …’ he managed, before closing his eyes and succumbing to her touch. She grinned and released him. 

‘Of course I don’t have to, silly, I _want_ to. It’s not just about you giving me pleasure. I want to give you pleasure. Now hush.’ And she took him into her mouth again, running up and down the hard length of him with her tongue, sucking and licking, her fingers caressing his balls. Her fingers slid around to grab his taut buttocks, and as she squeezed she pulled him deeper into her mouth. He let out a low growl and his fingers reached out to entwine in her hair, holding on for dear life as she milked him. It didn’t take long before he was coming hard into her mouth, and she waited for him to finish before finally releasing him. 

‘I’ve wanted to do that for ages,’ Hawke said naughtily, wiping the last drops from her lips. Fenris looked up at her, his large elf eyes bright and full of humour, and smiled. ‘You are a rare woman, Marian. I knew that the first time I laid eyes on you. And yet, I had no idea you were so debauched. But two can play at that game.’ He pressed his mouth to her ear, and whispered into it, her eyes widening at his words. ‘I intend to fuck you senseless before the night is over.’

He reached over and grabbed her as she squeaked, turning her over, his hands on her waist and bottom, and gave her rear a satisfying smack. She was soft and pliant and he was able to easily slip a finger into her, marvelling at how wet she was for him. 

‘Fenris, I want you inside me,’ she begged. ‘_Please_.’

‘My darling, I could do this all night,’ he teased, in that gravelly voice of his that she found so alluring, ‘And I fully intend to make up for lost time. Now, you _will_ do as I say. Get on all fours.’ Hawke complied as Fenris pushed her down onto the bed – she loved this darker side of him. So used to being the one in control, she wanted nothing more than to be subservient to him, to surrender completely to her lover and let him dominate her. Her bottom sticking up in the air, she was now at her most vulnerable, and a shiver ran up her spine in anticipation of what was to come. 

‘Maker, what a lovely sight,’ Fenris sighed, seeing Hawke bent over before him, her most intimate parts so exposed, ready and waiting for him. He bent over her, his hands reaching around and caressing her large nipples, fingers sliding across the flatness of her stomach and into the thick wiry thatch at the join of her thighs. He bit her neck, gently, then harder, and she whined underneath him, her whole body aching at his touch. His cock was so hard it was almost painful, having been denied release for far too long, and he pressed himself against her entrance, deliberately frustrating, but unable to hold on much longer. He placed his hands either side of her hips, enjoying the feeling of Hawke tensing in front of him, before suddenly plunging inside her. She screamed as he moved inside her at last – she had forgotten just how big he was.

Fenris moaned loudly with every thrust of his hips. Being inside her felt incredible. ‘You are mine. You belong to me,’ he said possessively, as he drove inside her over and over, making her whimper, ‘And this time, I shall never let you go.’


	12. The morning after

Hawke and Fenris had explored each other’s bodies until the first traces of light came streaking through the window, neither of them willing to let the other go, for fear of somehow breaking the spell. 

They had lain for a long time in bed, sometimes dozing, sometimes awake, but not speaking. It was enough just to be together. In those moments when he woke and Hawke slept, Fenris liked to lie there and listen to the rhythmic breathing of his lover, his head close to her breast, watching the peak rise and fall. He savoured quiet moments like these, where no one else could intrude. There was only the two of them, and the sound of birdsong outside in the trees. He would happily forget that the world outside existed, only to be alone with her a while longer.

Her eyelids began to flutter as she stirred, and she opened her eyes to see Fenris watching her. 

‘Fen, were you … did you dream? Did any of your memories come back again?’ Her brow creased with concern for him, and he reached out and touched her face to reassure her.

‘It’s all right love, you don’t need to worry – even if they had, I told you that I’ll never leave you again. But I only dreamt of you last night. It was strange … we were playing Wicked Grace but though I was winning, I kept having to remove a piece of armour, until I ended up in my smallclothes,’ he grinned. ‘Corff actually threatened to have me ejected from The Hanged Man for crimes against common decency.’

‘Kinky. Perhaps it’s because you’re always wearing it. Your armour seems like your second skin – I’m glad it does actually comes off,’ teased Hawke, settling back into the covers in relief.

Fenris smiled. ‘Only on special occasions.’ He wrapped his arms around Hawke more tightly, stroking the nape of her neck as she leaned into his naked body contentedly. She could feel his taut muscles underneath her, all smooth and hard – even in her half-awake state, it was very distracting. She stroked his hair and began to rub the tips of his ears, as he purred like a cat under her caresses. After several moments in blissful silence, he pushed himself up on his elbows, staring intently into her eyes, and began to speak.

‘You know, I was worried that you might give up on me – that you would get tired of waiting. I wouldn’t have blamed you if you had. I didn’t deserve your patience.’

‘I did think about it,’ admitted Hawke. ‘At times, it hurt so much, I thought it might be easier if I lost myself in someone else, at least for a little while. Isabela said I should …’ She paused, and Fenris harrumphed, but let her continue. ‘I wanted to, but no one came close, Fen, you have to know … it was only ever you.’ 

At this, he took her hand, and kissed it. ‘I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve you, Marian, truly I don’t. You know I’m in love with you don’t you? That’s why I tried to keep away. I’d already caused you enough pain. I couldn’t bear the thought of hurting you further.’ 

‘I love you too, Fen. I’m so happy,’ she smiled, snuggling into his chest.

Fenris wrapped his arm around her protectively. ‘You know, I was jealous of all the attention you garnered. Particularly from a certain mage.’

‘Oh, really?’ Hawke chuckled. ‘I never would have guessed.’

‘Hmph. I was worried that after you and I separated, that you might … I mean, I wouldn’t have blamed him if he’d made a move on you.’

‘Actually, now you mention it, Anders did ask to meet me once, at my estate. He wanted to talk. It was all a bit weird. He told me that he’d been obsessed with me for years.’

‘I’m not surprised. But I have to admit, I know how he feels,’ said Fenris, twirling a strand of her dark brown hair round his fingers. ‘I confess, in my lowest moments, I did consider asking him if he’d take care of you.’

‘What?!’ 

Fenris saw the look on Hawke’s face, and quickly answered, ‘Because _I_ couldn’t. I felt terrible after what happened between us. I couldn’t be the man you needed me to be, and I thought, better that you were with him, than on your own.’

Hawke bristled. ‘You know I can take care of myself – I’ve been doing pretty well on my own until now. But what could I say to him, Fen? It never would have worked out between us. We’re ill-matched. He has no room in his life for someone else. Being with him and Justice would be the worst threesome ever.’

‘I’m not sure about your choice of analogy,’ laughed Fenris. ‘But he did heal you when we were fighting Danarius – you were in pretty bad shape. You couldn’t have done without his support.’

‘I wish he could hear you right now, he wouldn’t believe the words coming out of your mouth! Don’t forget you also saved my life that night.’

‘How could I forget? I wouldn’t have wanted to go on living if I’d lost you. But you saved me too by putting your life on the line – every time you defended me from Danarius’s hunters. I know I’m a very lucky man. You waited for me all this time, and I had nothing to give you in return. But now, you have made me whole. I am someone because of you.’

Hawke ran her fingers down the muscles of his arm, admiring the markings, enjoying how they flared at her touch, and said, ‘You’re wrong. You’re worth a hundred, a thousand of any other man in Thedas. And all I ever wanted was you.’

‘Despite the fact that I kept corpses in my house?’ Fenris said with a smile.

‘Well, nobody’s perfect, though you come pretty damn close,’ she murmured, running her hands over his body. Her fingers brushed his chest, circling a nipple with her finger, which responded nicely to her touch. 

He moaned softly, and grabbed her hand, biting gently. ‘Careful Marian, if you touch me like that, I won’t be held responsible for the consequences!’

‘Is that so?’ she said playfully, pulling her hand free and trailing it further down his body. ‘I noticed that your hair down there isn’t white like on your head.’ 

‘You little devil,’ he gasped, the state of his arousal extremely obvious. ‘Whereas your hair is the same colour – I had often wondered.’ And he took revenge by bending his head down to her thick thatch of hair between her legs and splaying her open with his tongue. He nibbled and sucked at the saltiness of her nub until she was begging him to take her.

He came up for air, her juices on his chin, and grinned. ‘All in good time, my love. I think it’s time I drew you a bath – we have spent most of the day in bed, after all.’

***

Fenris watched her enter the room, a lustful look on his face. ‘You are so beautiful. Come here,’ he ordered, his gravelly voice catching in his throat, and she felt the gooseflesh break out on her arms in response. By Andraste, how did he do that? Although they knew each other intimately by now, she still felt slightly self-conscious as she padded across the floor and stood before him naked. It was the _way_ he was looking at her, she thought, so intently, as though his eyes could see into her soul, all-consuming, overwhelming. But everything about Fenris was like that.

She stepped into the water to join him; it was warm and invigorating. She moved into his arms, and he lifted her up above him, her breasts level with his face, and kissed the drops of moisture from each one. She could feel his hardness moving against her, and she positioned herself to straddle him. At long last he was inside her, and he let out a low growl as she began to slide up and down his length, his hands caressing her backside, fingers teasing deep into her buttocks, as she moaned at his touch.

‘Don’t stop … don’t ever stop,’ she managed, as he pulled her down forcefully onto him, again and again. 

‘That’s the thing,’ Fenris murmured, his mouth against her shoulder, ‘I’m not sure I can.’ And he moved deeper inside her, the rising steam and the warmth of the water around him making him feel light-headed. Or perhaps it was Hawke. It wasn’t long before he felt the burning heat of his orgasm approach, and he bit down hard on her neck as she tightened around him. Being inside her felt like second nature – was this why he needed her so much? He only felt truly alive in her presence. Perhaps this is what freedom really feels like, he thought, as his soul soared and his body exploded into a thousand particles of light.


	13. The proposition

‘I’m not sure about this, Marian,’ Fenris said, eyeing the invitation in his hand with a scowl on his face. The curly handwriting made the name difficult to read, but he could tell from the quality of the paper that it was from someone important. He had lifted it from where it lay among all the scraps and scrolls of paper scattered across Hawke’s desk, some of which, he noted with disdain, were copies of Anders’ manifesto. The ramblings of an unstable mind. He made a mental note to ask her about it later. He was pleased to see that most of them were ripped and chewed at the edges – obviously Dog’s doing. Even the mabari knows a rogue when he encounters one, he thought. They would make good kindling for the fire. 

‘You’re only saying that because you know how many eligible bachelors will be there,’ she teased. 

‘Well, it’s true,’ he grumbled, ‘There always seems to be a contingent of men vying for your attention. I almost preferred it when it was just Isabela.’ In fact, he didn’t find the thought of anyone flirting with Hawke remotely amusing. Of course, she always seemed to be oblivious to the effect she had on the people around her. He’d lost count of the number of times that Hawke simply returning a smile brought out the lascivious side of people. It was almost worse that she usually did nothing to encourage it, because he then had no way to be angry at her, no way to justify how insecure he felt. She would joke and say his eyes were green for a reason. 

‘You have nothing to worry about, silly,’ she smiled, wrapping her arms around him. She secretly loved it when her lover’s jealous side emerged. ‘You know I’m not particularly bothered about going, but I’ve turned down so many parties lately, I feel I should attend this one. Besides, I’ve heard that an actual prince is going to be there.’

‘A prince? Now I _know_ you’re teasing me,’ Fenris complained, grabbing Hawke’s bottom and pinching hard.

‘Ow! I’m just saying,’ she said, giving him a shove. 

‘So you intend on going? You have a title now, and a reputation to maintain. I suppose you have appearances to keep up. In fact, why are you even associating with me?’

‘Now who’s teasing?’ Hawke said crossly, folding her arms. ‘And never mind the title. I really don’t care for it. Look, you know I don’t want to go to any parties, but I receive so many of these invitations, it’s getting ridiculous. I keep turning them down but these people don’t seem to want to take no for an answer. Anyway,’ she said, her face adopting a serious expression, ‘I asked you here because I wanted to talk to you about something.’

‘I’m intrigued,’ Fenris said, watching her with some amusement. He moved close to her and put his arms around her. ‘May I say though, you look extremely beautiful when you’re angry.’ She sighed, feeling his strong, reassuringly solid body against her back, and encircled his long tattooed arms with her own. 

‘I’m not angry, I promise. I want … I mean, Fen, would you – do you want to move in with me?’

He felt his stomach flutter at her words. He’d never expected her to even ask such a question – it was beyond his wildest dreams. 

‘What? Move in with you? Are you completely serious?’

‘Of course I’m serious! By the Maker, why would I not be serious?’ She broke free of his embrace, and turned to face him, her cheeks flushed in annoyance. She was visibly put out, and was biting her lip again. She really had no idea how attractive she looked.

‘Love, that’s not what I meant. I mean …’ he hesitated, trying to work out exactly what he _did_ mean. ‘It’s just unexpected, that’s all. Aren’t you worried what people will say? The Champion of Kirkwall living with an elf, and a former slave at that?’

‘I don’t care for gossip – I get enough of that from Varric. People can say what they like, it won’t change how I feel about you. And even apart from that, let’s be practical about this. You’re living in a crumbling mansion. How much longer can you continue to stay there unnoticed? Plus, there are … other benefits.’ She smiled, and ran her fingers down his arm.

He reacted instantly to her touch, grabbing her by the waist and pulling her in close. ‘Naughty girl – you know what that does to me,’ he growled. ‘Now, tell me about the benefits.’

‘Well, for one, we get to see each other all the time,’ she began, letting out a squeak as he nipped her neck with his teeth.

‘There is that,’ agreed Fenris, his mouth hot on Hawke’s skin.

‘And I could cook you dinner. Or at least, I could try,’ she corrected, seeing him raise an eyebrow. ‘I never said I was a _good_ cook.’

‘I think you should at least get to practice,’ he said, avoiding Hawke’s swift elbow to the stomach, and nuzzling her neck instead. ‘What other benefits?’

‘Well, stuff,’ she spluttered, trying to push him away, but failing. ‘So, will you then?’

Fenris stalled. It was what he wanted, more than he’d ever dared hope for, so what was holding him back – what was stopping him from saying yes? A part of him that said, _this is too much_, but also, _you don’t deserve this_. 

There was another part of him that urged him to speak from the heart. She would understand – he mustn’t underestimate her. He’d known Hawke a long time, now, and she was still the only person that he trusted with his life. She had always treated him as someone of worth, as her equal, and he had no words to express to her just what that meant to him. But perhaps, there was only one way. He took her hands in his and clasped them tightly. 

‘Marian, I need to say how much I love you.’ 

Hawke sighed. ‘I’m not sure I like where this is going.’ She chewed her bottom lip furiously.

‘Look, I can’t – I’m not ready. You have to understand, it wasn’t that long ago that you merely touching me triggered nightmares from my past that I couldn’t control. I was on my own for so long … I think I need to get used to the idea first.’

Hawke jerked away from him in frustration. ‘That’s bullshit and you know it! You’ve lain with me night after night, you can walk into my estate any time you like, as though you own the place, but now you can’t cope with the responsibility of being in a relationship? Admit that you’re still a slave to your past, Fenris, and until you let go of it, it’s always going to come between us!’

Fenris reacted as though he had been slapped, and his green eyes flashed in anger.

‘I can’t believe after all I’ve been through that you would say that to me! I thought you of all people would understand … I’m trying to be honest with you!’ He paced up and down the room furiously, clenching his fists. He was incredulous. Only days into their reconciliation, they were actually having their first argument.

Hawke stopped him. ‘I’m sorry, Fen, I didn’t mean what I said. I was upset. I just … we’ve waited for so long to be together, and I just don’t want to wait any longer. Life is short – I’ve lost Bethany, I’ve lost mother, and I could have lost you any number of times. I don’t want to lose this chance of being together. We don’t know how long we’ve got … and I don’t want to spend my life regretting what I might have done if only I’d had more time.’ She was babbling now – sometimes she needed to learn to fill the gaps with silence. 

Fenris looked at her, his jaw clenched. ‘I’ve walked alone for as long as I can remember – no memories of friends, loved ones, or anyone to care for me. At least you had a mother, a sister, a brother. You _know_ who you are.’ 

So he still thought of himself as alone – even after all the time they had spent together. Getting Fenris to let go of his past was going to take a lot longer than she’d thought. But she’d have to learn to keep the frustration she felt buried within, or risk pushing him away for good. 

‘I may know my past, but none of us know the future. What I _do_ know, though, is that I want to spend it with you.’

Fenris relaxed his hands, and reached for her, holding her close, her face against his shoulder. ‘This doesn't change how I feel about you. Meeting you was the most important thing that ever happened to me, and not a day goes by that I’m not grateful. But I’m just asking you to wait for me, that’s all.’

‘I know. And I will,’ Hawke said reluctantly. She knew deep down he was right, and she was already starting to feel guilty for her hasty words. ‘I’ll give you time.’

‘That’s better. Now tell me,’ Fenris said, a half smile on his face, ‘Just how and why there are so many copies of that damn Anders’ nonsense writings in your house?’


	14. Good counsel

Varric watched Hawke twist and turn in front of the mirror with a frown on her face – it was fascinating. He didn’t think he’d ever seen her dressed up in her finery, so it was rather odd when she’d opened the door in a ball gown, a shawl wrapped around her to preserve her modesty. The gown certainly left little to the imagination, despite the fact she was far from naked. She’d looked rather embarrassed when he’d commented on it. 

He wrinkled his forehead. ‘So what’s this I hear about you and Broody falling out? You’ve only been back together five minutes and you’re fighting? Remind me again why you people bother with this thing called “love.”’ 

Hawke popped open one of the buttons of the dress with a long sigh. ‘How do you even find this stuff out? I bet it was Isabela – I could throttle her! She’s incapable of keeping anything to herself!’

‘I’m saying nothing,’ chuckled Varric. ‘It’s great entertainment though. Let’s just say, your life is more interesting than I could write it. Though I am tempted to put pen to paper and write a book about you one day.’

‘Well if you do, you’ll need to embellish the details – nothing could be as titillating as _Hard in Hightown_. Couldn’t get some of the scenes out of my mind for weeks!’

‘Titillating, you say? I’m touched you actually bothered to read it! I’m planning a sequel if you’re interested. But tell me more about the elf – I heard he didn’t take you up on your offer to move in. Is the guy crazy?’

‘He said he wasn’t ready. Which, all right, I suppose I understand, but, Maker’s Breath, we’ve been apart for so long, and how much longer can he squat in that old mansion?’

‘I see what you mean. It’s not like he hasn’t spent the past few years doing his angsty elf thing, after all. But hate has driven that guy for a long time – it’s no wonder he’s finding his new life difficult to adjust to.’

‘That’s the thing, though – it hasn’t been difficult, the two of us together. It’s been ridiculously easy. We act in synchronisation. Often we're thinking the same thing, and sometimes he even finishes my sentences. We just _are_. So I figured this was the next step.’

‘Hawke, I’m no expert on relationships, but it seems to me there’s a big difference between spending a lot of time with someone and y’know, actually _living_ with them. And just think about it for a second. That mansion represents his freedom. It’s the first place he’s been able to call home since escaping his old life. No wonder he’s reluctant to give it up.’

‘Varric, has anyone ever told you that you have a wise head on those broad shoulders of yours?’

‘All the time! I’ve lost count of how many women have cried on these manly shoulders,’ Varric said, patting one of the items in question. ‘I guess I have that kind of face. One you can trust.’ 

Hawke grinned. ‘You’re right of course. But I wouldn’t be surprised if the thought of living in a noble’s estate makes him feel uncomfortable. Heck, it makes me feel uncomfortable, knocking around such a huge dusty old manor, having servants – when I’ve always been used to doing everything for myself. I’m not even sure it’s the life _I_ want. I think I’d be much more comfortable making my bed under the stars.’

‘You and me both,’ laughed Varric. 

Hawke exhaled loudly. ‘Perhaps I was foolish to think that it wouldn’t change things between us. No matter how much I tell Fenris I respect him, that I love him – there’s still a part of him that feels like he doesn’t belong. He tells me I just need to wait. Maker knows I waited this long, I suppose I can wait a while longer. Though to be honest, after what I said, I wouldn’t be surprised if he starts avoiding me.’ 

She knew though, deep down, just _why_ she had asked Fenris to move in. Not merely for love, but needing someone, and a sense of belonging. She had no strong male presence in her life, not since her father’s death, and Gamlen could hardly be relied upon, financially or otherwise. 

She’d also barely seen Carver since he’d become a Templar – she couldn’t rule out that he’d done it just to spite her, though perhaps he was just trying to step out of her shadow. It was probably for the best, as they always clashed over her sympathy with the mages. How could they not, given that she was one herself? It still stung though.

Fenris was the one constant in a sea of volatility, reassuringly predictable in his moods and behaviour, his little habits that she found so endearing – perhaps because, as a former slave, routine was hard to let go of, or perhaps it was because it gave him comfort. And he had started giving her little tokens of affection, as though he was worried that Hawke’s feelings for him might somehow diminish without them. Just the other day he’d come back from the market with a pretty blue scarf – it matched her eyes, he said. This was a side of himself that no one else would ever know, which was why it irked her so much when people like Anders took him at face value. 

‘Never mind,’ said Varric, patting her on the back. ‘I’ve seen the way that Broody looks at you – remember, shadow can’t exist without light. I’m sure he’ll come around soon. So, what about this party or ball or whatever it is you’re going to – that is the reason for the dress, right? I have to wonder why I’m not invited!’

‘Well, I’d love you to go in my stead! I keep turning them down but the invitations just keep coming. Don’t these people realise I’ve got better things to do than stand around talking politics? They’re only interested in me for what advantage they might gain, anyway. Though right now I feel about as useful as a sack of potatoes.’

‘I’m afraid that’s part of who you are now, Hawke. You’re the Champion of Kirkwall – people look to you for inspiration and leadership. And you know, everyone likes potatoes.’

‘Yes, it’s rather annoying. You know, I didn’t want any of this, Varric.’

The dwarf smiled. ‘Great leaders rarely do. But you’re doing a good job here Hawke; don’t underestimate yourself.’

‘Thanks,’ Hawke smiled at her old friend. ‘I guess I needed to hear that. Now would you mind undoing the back of this dress for me? I can barely breathe.’

‘In all my time with you Hawke, I’ve never had such a challenging mission,’ Varric muttered, his face suddenly flushed, as his large rough fingers tried to navigate the delicate buttons. It reminded him that Hawke was all woman, a fact that he was able to ignore when he was fighting with her. It was probably time to make his excuses and leave, lest Bianca be envious. 

***

He hadn’t gone with Hawke to the party, feeling that he would be out of place (though feeling out of place came naturally to him). But now he wished he were there at her side – thoughts of all the lecherous men she was probably encountering at this minute filled him with despair, and something else: that old familiar feeling of jealousy. Perhaps he should do something about it. What he really wanted to do was drag Hawke away from the party, tear off her pretty dress and remind her just what she was missing – but what he felt he ought to do was drink himself into the Void, as was his habit when spending time alone. He wasn’t quite sure what was the best course of action. Instead, he was here, showing his own ridiculous writings to the last person who knew or cared about love. He was a fool. 

‘Well, what do you think?’

‘What is it?’ Isabela looked at the scrap of paper that Fenris had handed to her. It definitely had something scrawled across it, though his narrow handwriting was hard to decipher. 

‘Can’t you tell? It’s … it’s a poem. At least, it’s meant to be.’

‘A _poem_?’ The Rivaini covered her mouth with her hand to hide her growing smile.

Fenris cursed under his breath. ‘It’s not a laughing matter!’

‘Maker bless you Fenris, you’re trying to write Hawke a love poem!’

‘Never mind – I knew I shouldn’t have shown it to you,’ he sighed, trying to snatch the paper out of her hands. He’d set himself up for this.

‘Wait! Let me read it … hang on … wow, I never knew this side of you … this is actually rather good,’ she said, batting him away with one hand, before Fenris finally managed to tear the poem from her grasp. 

‘I just want to show her what she means to me,’ he muttered, stuffing the paper inside his shirt and turning away. 

‘Oh, I wouldn’t worry about that – I’m pretty sure she already knows,’ smiled Isabela, watching him go. After he was gone, the pirate captain’s shoulders dropped. Why couldn’t somebody write poetry like that for her? In the past, she'd had a brief dalliance with an Antivan elf called Zevran, but getting him to write poetry was about as likely as getting him to commit to a serious relationship. He’d once given her a single earring as a token of affection, which she still kept, for some idiotic reason. He would never admit that she was more than just another notch on his bedpost. Despite appearances, Isabela would have dearly loved a long-term arrangement. She was tired of playing games. For all his faults, she couldn’t help missing that stupid elf, though no doubt he had a woman in every port. For now, she’d have to wait.


	15. New acquaintances

The party was even grander than Hawke had imagined. There was a chandelier hanging in the main hall that made the one in her estate look like a gaudy lamp, not to mention the incredible banquet that had been laid on by the host, Ser Marlein Selbrech. She’d thought she’d feel out of place, that her outfit might be a bit over the top, but in fact it was restrained compared to what some of the other people were wearing. In particular, some of the Orlesian women’s dresses left little to the imagination. Hawke’s own dress accentuated her waist, but unfortunately clung a little too much in other places – the flimsy lace at the top did nothing to hide her ample cleavage. Fenris’s eyes would no doubt pop out of his head once he saw her in this. It had certainly had that effect on most of the men she had encountered so far, and she’d even had some suggestive comments from one noblewoman, much to her surprise. Nonplussed, she’d flirted back a little, before she remembered she was supposed to be spoken for. 

She’d already spent a couple of hours in idle chit-chat with various uninteresting people, and was starting to feel incredibly bored. Ser Selbrech was nowhere to be seen, which was frustrating, given that Hawke had only intended to show her face, give her thanks to the host and then make a swift exit. The only bonus was the fine wine which kept coming – she only hoped it didn’t come from Tevinter. Hadn’t Fenris said that it was made from the blood and tears of slaves? She wasn’t entirely sure he was joking. 

She was just reaching for another glass, when a deep, accented voice startled her.

‘That bad, is it?’

‘S … sorry?’ she spluttered, nearly spilling wine all down her front. She looked up to see a strikingly handsome man with dark hair and tanned skin watching her. 

‘The party – is it so bad you need to find solace in the bottom of a cup?’ He winked at her, and for a moment she was dumbstruck, distracted by the radiance of his smile. Sensing her embarrassment, he held out his hand, and in silence she took his hand as he lifted her to her feet.

‘I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m Sebastian Vael,’ he said. ‘And you are … Lady Amell? I was told you might be here.’

‘No no,’ Hawke laughed, ‘I’m still just plain old Marian Hawke. Lady Amell more befitted my mother.’

‘Plain is not something any man would ever call you,’ said Sebastian, bestowing a kiss on her hand, which he was still holding. ‘And your mother – is she here? I’d love to meet her.’

What a smooth talker he was. Really, ten out of ten for effort. Fenris would be livid if he could hear this, thought Hawke. She had an irrational feeling that he might appear, somehow, which was completely projection on her part – the idea of Fenris being there was ridiculous. He didn’t like being around most people and he certainly didn’t like parties. Fenris suddenly entering her thoughts like that made her realise that she was behaving less than honourably, and she quickly withdrew her hand.

‘Something wrong?’ Sebastian asked, the concern showing on his face making his dark features even more handsome.

‘Ah, no, it’s just … my mother is no longer with us,’ she said self-consciously, thinking that she cared less about the reference to her mother and more about what her lover would say at this chance meeting with a prince. She had heard his name before, of course, but hadn’t believed that he might actually be here. 

‘I’m terribly sorry,’ he began, but she interrupted him.

‘It’s fine, really, I’ve come to terms with it. Don’t trouble yourself. But you – you’re the Prince of Starkhaven?’ She cursed herself inwardly for sounding like she was fawning. He must get that all the time.

‘In exile, actually – I don’t go by that title, especially not since I became a brother of the Chantry.’

‘You’re a priest? Well colour me surprised.’ That made her pause for thought. Were all brothers of the Chantry this flirty? So much for being wedded to Andraste.

‘I know what you’re thinking,’ laughed Sebastian. ‘I’ve given up all worldly pleasures … though I have to admit, on the occasion I get to meet a woman as lovely as yourself, I have cause to regret that more.’

She was blushing now, unable to hide from the onslaught of compliments he was sending her way. ‘Sebastian, please. If we’re to become friends, you really need to stop that.’

‘Stop what?’ He looked at her innocently, and she half-believed he had no idea what she was talking about, the man’s demeanour seemed so pious.

‘The _flirting_. It’s not that I don’t like it, really, but it makes life … difficult.’

‘Aye, you may say that,’ he grinned. ‘But I prefer to think that it makes things easier. Life is difficult enough sometimes – one must take pleasure where one finds it.’

‘Now you really _don’t_ sound like a priest,’ Hawke chuckled.

‘I can see we’re going to get on famously, you and I,’ said Sebastian, flashing her another of his dazzling smiles. Not if Fenris has anything to do with it, thought Hawke wryly. He was suspicious of any man who came within ten feet of her; he barely tolerated Anders, and she suspected that Varric only got a free pass because of Bianca.

It was easy to talk to such an affable companion, and Hawke was grateful for his company. Eventually though, the clock struck midnight, and Hawke realised with a yawn that she was absolutely exhausted. She closed her eyes for a second, feeling herself slipping into darkness, until a large hand on her shoulder brought her back. 

‘Boring you, am I?’ Sebastian’s hand stayed on her shoulder, a smile on his face. She noticed he had long, elegant fingers, but unlike Fenris’s, they were beautifully manicured.

‘It’s not you. It’s been a long day, that’s all. I think I need to go home. And my feet are killing me in these awful shoes.’ She looked down at her borrowed shoes, which, though beautiful and expensive-looking, were incredibly uncomfortable. Despite being a hardened fighter, it was to her eternal embarrassment that her feet were so sensitive – even boots that she thought were long broken in caused rubbing and blistering after a few hours. Her mother used to say it must be the noble blood flowing through her veins. Ha, as if. She could have done with thicker skin in more ways than one.

‘I understand. Need an escort?’ He held out his arm.

Hawke shook her head. ‘I appreciate the offer, but I don’t have far to go. It’s been lovely meeting you.’ Besides, in case Fenris was waiting around for her, she didn’t fancy having to explain to him who her new gentleman friend was. They seemed to have made up after their falling out, but she was worried about antagonising him further.

She was nearly back at the estate (barefoot, shoes in hand) when a shape fell out of a doorway, startling her. 

‘I knew you’d be waiting for me,’ she smiled, then screamed as a man came towards her, a leer upon his face. She noticed with a start that he was holding a knife. ‘No – no – you …’ she cried, the words breaking up in her throat as she tried to speak, the panic in her voice all but silencing her. Normally she was capable of holding her own, and had dealt with three men singlehandedly just the other day (was it her fault some people took offence at her jokes?), but this time, tired and full of wine, she was more than vulnerable. She didn’t recognise him, but that didn’t mean anything – she was used to being accosted by random strangers with a grievance. As one hand tightened around her throat, the other at her breast, thoughts of everything she might lose flashed in her mind – and first and foremost was Fenris. 

Just then, a pair of long tattooed arms curled round the man and broke his neck in a single movement, and the stranger dropped to the ground with a thud. Fenris emerged from the shadows, a look of concern married with anger on his face.

‘Are you all right? I was in your room when I heard a scream. Your hound’s been going wild without you. Thank the Maker I was here,’ he chastised gently, touching her face and wiping the moisture from her eyes with a calloused thumb. Her tears were flowing freely now, and she threw herself into his arms with a gulp and a sob. She didn’t care that her face was a mess, that her nose was streaming and her make-up ruined – only that Fenris was there and had saved her once more.

‘I could have taken him on, I could have fought him,’ she explained bitterly, but Fenris only pressed her closer, making soothing noises as she tried to calm down. 

‘Damn it, Marian, you shouldn’t have put yourself in that position,’ he growled, after he’d heard the whole story. He’d looked less than enthused when she mentioned Sebastian’s name. ‘You should really post some guards outside your estate, considering all the trouble you get into.’

‘It was only a short walk,’ she protested, curling her fists against his chest. ‘Are you actually blaming me for this? I don’t suppose you’ve ever walked home drunk, and alone!’

‘I’m not blaming you,’ he sighed, ‘But I’d die if anything were to ever happen to you. You know that, don’t you, you foolish woman? You’ve got to stop acting like you’re invincible.’ And he pressed his fingers against the pressure points of her temple, the heat from her face spreading warmth up his fingers. She relaxed into him for a few seconds, before moving back. 

‘Just take me inside,’ Hawke said in a tired voice.

***

Ignoring Dog’s barking and Orana’s urgent questioning, Fenris carried Hawke up the stairs to her bedroom. He winced as her fingers dug sharply into his skin, and gently took her arms from around his neck. He pulled her into his lap, and began to remove the pins from her hair. She looked very fetching with it swept up and off her face, but he preferred it curling down around her shoulders, framing her face. She looked younger, somehow, more vulnerable. She sighed at his touch, and made no noise when he began to undress her. It was almost a shame to take her out of such a beautiful dress. He couldn’t remember when he’d ever seen her look lovelier.

His fingers were deft where once they would have fumbled, and in seconds he had the back of her dress open. It was beyond him why dresses like this had about twenty buttons where surely less than half would have done. He didn’t understand parties, or why people enjoyed dressing up for them. But when he saw Hawke dressed up like this, in bright colours that contrasted beautifully with her dark hair, so different from her usual drab leathers, it reminded him of what a rare and precious gift he had been given.

He put his hand on the warm flesh of her back, splaying his long fingers wide, and noted with a little smile the delicate downy hairs that led from her hairline down to the nape of her neck. He pushed back the sides of the dress and carefully rolled her out of it, as though unwrapping a present, then picked up the dress and hung it carefully on the back of a chair. Lying there in just a corset and her underwear, she really was the most arresting sight. He felt the first stirrings of arousal under his breeches, and turned away. Now was really not the time.

He’d reached the doorway, when he heard movement on the bed behind him.

‘You’re not _leaving_?’ she asked, her voice heavy with disappointment.

Fenris turned around. ‘I thought it best. You need your rest and I might only prove a … distraction.’ He felt a pang of guilt as he looked at her; she looked so dejected.

‘Just hold me,’ she pleaded. Wordlessly, he nodded, shocked at the helplessness in her tone, and padded back to the bed. Carefully he stripped off her stockings, and couldn’t resist running his hands down her bare legs, as she reclined before him. He slid his fingers round the back of her hips to unlace the corset, pulling the ribbon out until it lay pooled in front of him on the bed. As the corset came apart and fell to the floor, his hands met her waist, moving over her pale skin and up to the beautiful breasts that were now free of their constraints. She began to breathe heavily, eyes closed, as he caressed her, her lips parted in answer to his touch. 

It was hard to resist touching her further, but he paused to remove most of his own clothing before joining her in the bed. He lay against her, his chest against her back, and wrapped his arms around her, his chin against her shoulder. He bit the inside of his cheek, trying to resist the throbbing of his cock, shifting his hips on the bed to separate his skin from hers. It was almost impossible. Eventually the decision was made for him however, as a soft snoring indicated that Hawke was asleep. He lay awake for what seemed like a long time, before sleep, too, claimed him.


	16. Surrender

Later that night, Hawke woke and turned to Fenris, and they made love, tenderly and slowly, with none of the urgency of their usual coupling. It was as though they had finally reached an understanding, a meeting of minds that needed neither words nor explanation, but just the other person to be there. And it was comforting to know that she was there, that she was _always_ there, and with a pang of guilt he reflected if his decision not to move in with her had been ill-considered. It wasn’t that he cared about the old manor, though he felt some satisfaction at having taken over what once belonged to his former master. It was a reluctance to let go of something that had become his, as though once gone, he would have nothing left. It was true that he had no possessions, nothing to call his own. But there was something else. 

Some memories of his childhood had been triggered when Varania had called him by his given name, Leto, but not much more. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to remember everything – or if he did, it might change who he was now. But after he and Hawke had made love, his orgasm leaving him quivering and out of breath, for one fleeting moment he’d wondered if he would always feel like this, or if one day he would wake up next to her and feel nothing but emptiness inside. In fact, he was terrified that day might come again, just as it had after the first time they’d lain together. But Hawke must never know his greatest fear, lest he risk losing her all over again. He owed her that much.

These thoughts had troubled his mind while Hawke slept, but for several minutes she had been tossing and turning beside him on the bed, and suddenly let out a shout. Gently, he shook her awake. 

‘Marian, are you all right?’

She opened her eyes and looked at him sadly. ‘I keep dreaming about my mother dying … the way she died, Fen, it was so horrible. When I got there, I was already too late. Only, in my dreams, I’m there, I’m saving her, but then I’m the one who ends up dead.’ She sighed and put her hands over her face, unwilling for Fenris to see her, or perhaps she was just unwilling to meet his gaze. It was cold in her bedroom and she had thrown on his shirt in the night, which, despite his slender build, was still too big for her, and now the sleeves bunched round her wrists. The effect would have been comical if not for the seriousness of the moment. 

Fenris reached out and pulled her hands slowly away from her face. It wasn’t easy – Hawke resisted his grip, and she was almost as strong as he was – but eventually he was able to clasp her hands in his. He saw that her eyes were reddened, though she wasn’t crying.

‘You were _not_ to blame,’ he said with conviction, pressing her fingers firmly against his. ‘As soon as you found out where she was, you went straight there. You could not have done more. And your mother was lucky to have such a brave, considerate daughter as you.’ 

Hawke rubbed the end of her nose and smiled at him gratefully. ‘I didn’t think her death would affect me this much, but my mind keeps dwelling on it. I couldn’t have prevented father’s or Bethany’s deaths – they were out of my hands. But with my mother, I keep thinking, if only I’d got there sooner. If _only_. I’m hoping that the more times people say it wasn’t my fault, the more I’ll believe it to be true.’

He pulled her close, and began to stroke her hair. It was much silkier than his own, and smelt faintly of lavender. ‘It _is_ true. In your place, I would have done exactly the same. I can’t think of anyone stronger or more capable than you – but I don’t think anyone could have saved your mother in time.’ 

Hawke said nothing, but automatically moved against him, nestling into his warm, bare chest, and with a jolt he felt the markings covering his body light up, his hairs standing on end at her touch. Though she was wearing his shirt, he was more aroused at the feeling of her bare breasts against his chest through the fabric than if she had been completely naked. Yet again his body was reacting instinctively to hers, and he knew in that moment that, no matter what happened, he was bound to her forever. He feared letting go entirely; the intensity of such yearning made him feel helpless, in thrall to Hawke, and it unnerved him, though he had no desire to fight it. He would surrender his soul to her entirely, just as he’d already surrendered his body and heart, and he was powerless to stop it. 

Something crackled between them, a papery sound against his shoulder, and for a second he wondered what it could be. He touched his fingers to her right breast, lingering for a second, before reaching into the pocket of his shirt and unfolding a piece of paper that he had hitherto forgotten.

‘What is it?’ Hawke asked, looking at him curiously. 

‘Something I wrote recently – for you, actually,’ Fenris said, surprising himself by handing the crumpled poem to her without hesitation. He felt with conviction that it was, at the very least, better than the banal poetry that he often heard Isabela’s would-be suitors quoting at her in the tavern.

‘For me?’ Carefully she unfolded the paper and began to read. He couldn’t help but notice her hands were shaking slightly as she began to read the words it had taken him days to write. He’d kept copying them out on a fresh sheet of paper until he was satisfied. Indeed, he’d practised writing so often that his spidery handwriting was much improved. He was a little embarrassed to hear them out loud for the first time, and he resisted the urge to snatch the paper out of her hands and tear it up. 

_Our bodies lie by the fire in afterglow_  
_I hold her close and never want to let her go_  
_The evening sun lights her face, she looks at me_  
_The slow rise and fall of her chest as she breathes_  
_My heart will protect her like a shield _  
_My love is as strong as tempered steel_  


She folded the paper carefully over and smiled, her eyes welling with tears. ‘Oh Fen, it’s so beautiful. It’s perfect. Can I keep it?’

He nodded, relieved, and came towards her, closing her fingers over the paper, as he moved into her arms and kissed her. As the kiss deepened, the paper fell to the floor, momentarily forgotten. In one movement his shirt slid off her shoulders, and she was again warm, soft and naked in his arms. She felt a humming inside her, a heaviness in her womb that called out to be filled, anticipating the moment when Fenris would move within her and they would become one. Sometimes she imagined what it would be like to carry his child, her belly pleasingly round as the baby inside her grew, and she knew that she would love it as much as she loved him. She wondered if this moment might be its creation. 

His hands moved over her shoulders and pushed her down onto the bed, and willingly she laid back for him as he brought himself down onto her. Hawke moved her hands round to the firm globes of his buttocks and marvelled at the long beautiful form that stretched above her. She was in awe of him and the devotion he showed her. As though sensing what she was thinking, he brought his lips down to her brow and left a trail of kisses down the side of her face, her neck, until he reached her breasts. His tongue teased the tip of her right nipple until it was pointing with arousal, and, pleased with his work, he moved to do the same to the other. She began to moan, softly at first, then louder as his mouth found the prize between her legs. Her fingers curled around the base of his cock, and he made a low sound in his throat at the feeling of her hand on him, so warm and familiar.

‘I want you inside me, Fen. I want you to fuck me!’ she cried as his tongue slid inside her. 

He was always a little shocked when she used such language, not because he never thought her capable of it, but because it seemed strange hearing those words come out of such a beautiful mouth. It amused him though, and aroused him, to know how much she desired him. It made him aggressive in his lovemaking, as though possessing her body so completely would give him her soul. He had been someone else’s possession for years; had never had anything to call his own. Now he was his own master, he relished every moment he had to take what he wanted; _what is mine_, he thought. 

He grabbed her, pinching her skin in his eagerness, and parted her legs, lingering to brush the curly hair there, before extending a long finger and thrusting it inside her. ‘Mmm, you’re so lovely, so wet for me, _mea amata_,’ he sighed, moving his finger back and forth into her folds as she bucked her hips around him. He slid a second finger inside her. He loved giving her pleasure, watching her beautiful naked form reacting to every caress, every touch he gave her. He was aroused to the point of being unable to contain himself any longer, and he pinned her body down with his own, feeling her writhe beneath him. 

‘Quiet,’ he ordered, ‘Lie still,’ and she did as she was told and lay motionless before him, though it was agony for her not to move.

‘Tell me you want me,’ he demanded, biting her neck.

‘I want you,’ she whispered breathlessly.

‘Tell me you need me.’ 

‘I need you.’

‘Tell me you love me,’ he commanded, running his hands down her hips.

‘You know I love you,’ she giggled, as his lips tickled her ear.

‘_Tell me_,’ he growled, pressing his cock insistently against the inside of her thigh. 

‘I love you,’ she gasped, as he sank inside her to the hilt, but she was so wet with arousal that he took her easily. She made no sound; there was only the sharp intake of his own breath as he plunged deep within her. He lifted her legs over his shoulders and thrust roughly, again and again, and this time she cried out loudly, feeling so large an intruder at the edge of her womb. She wanted every inch of him deep within her, filling her completely with his seed. Somewhere in the house, Dog started to bark, and Fenris grinned as he imagined the servants trying to ignore the sounds of their lovemaking. 

He lifted her up as though she weighed nothing, pulling out of her slowly, and then moved sharply back in, enjoying her reaction as she whimpered with each thrust. She was already on the precipice, and he quickened his pace, feeling his own orgasm approaching. He felt Hawke tighten around him as she came with a scream, precipitating his own release, and cried out as he spilled into her.

‘Maker’s breath, that was incredible,’ he panted, his heart hammering painfully in his chest. ‘Half of Hightown could have been banging on the door and I wouldn’t have been able to stop.’ He held her close and stroked her dark hair while he regained his breath, feeling the frantic beating of her heart subside with his own. Then he shifted onto his elbow and looked at her, admiring her profile, her small upturned nose and full lips, the flush in her cheeks so attractive in the aftermath of intercourse.

‘What are you thinking?’ Hawke asked, a glow of pleasure on her face. His hair was sticking out in all directions and playfully she tugged at his forelock. 

‘I’m just thinking that it might be a good idea for me to move in with you after all,’ he said, a teasing smile on his lips, as his fingers came up to stroke her cheek.


	17. A difficult choice

It was a dull grey morning, the air stifling and oppressive inside the estate, which was rather appropriate considering who had just turned up on Hawke’s doorstep. And given that her unexpected guest was Anders, it was bound not to be a simple courtesy call. She’d had no chance to freshen up before he made an appearance, and she self-consciously tried to smooth a cowlick down that refused to lie flat. For once his hair was untied, and it fell in blonde waves to his shoulders. She’d never seen him with his hair loose before, and suddenly she realised just how attractive he was. Curse him! It seemed a deliberate ploy to play on her feelings. He smiled at her expectantly, and, her heart weighing heavily in her chest, she invited him inside. 

As he walked into the house ahead of her, she quickly loosened the top of her tunic before he turned around, lest he think it was a flirtatious gesture. It was uncomfortably warm in the main chamber, but there were few rooms that were presentable, and she’d be damned if she’d invite him into her bedroom. Quite why Orana had made up a fire in the hearth on such a warm day was beyond her. She felt sick in the pit of her stomach, which was unsurprising given the circumstances, though this was the second time in the past week that she had woken up feeling nauseous. Thankfully Fenris had gone to the market with Varric some time earlier. He’d moved into Hawke’s estate the previous month, which was no effort at all given that he had scant belongings at his mansion besides an old bath, a ramshackle chest of drawers and a bed. He’d left them all behind as the estate was reasonably furnished, if a bit run-down and dusty. 

‘I know we haven’t always seen eye to eye lately. It pains me that our friendship has suffered, particularly since … well, you know. I’ve tried to give you space, but some things are bigger than broken friendships,’ Anders said, looking at Hawke in earnest, as she threw herself down into a chair. Her face was flushed and he saw a tiny bead of sweat forming on her brow. She was incredibly beautiful, and he fought hard to stop his true feelings from showing on his face – he ached for her almost constantly. He knew it was futile, had tried to put her out of his mind, but often his imagination would run wild and the only way he could put a stop to it was to find release in his own hand. Night after night, the image of her naked and willing in his bed tormented his thoughts. It was relentless. 

‘All right, Anders, what’s so important that it couldn’t wait until I’d had breakfast?’ Hawke asked impatiently. She had been on edge ever since Anders walked through the door, and somehow his relaxed demeanour made her feel worse. She noted that he didn’t look fazed at all – in fact he looked like he was relishing a challenge. She almost admired his gall. 

‘I think Ser Alrik is plotting something – and I need your help to stop him.’

‘Ser Alrik? The bald grumpy-looking Templar? He gives me the creeps.’

‘He _should_ give you the creeps. He’s a sadist, a bloodthirsty monster who likes nothing more than to experiment on mages and push them over the edge into madness, all in the name of “research”.’

Hawke was never entirely sure if Anders was speaking the truth or embellishing it when he talked of what went on in the Kirkwall Circle, but she sensed that now she needed to take him seriously. ‘I suspected the rumours might be true. And just what is this … plot, exactly?’

‘I’ve got wind of something called “The Tranquil Solution”. It seems to be a plan to make all mages in Thedas tranquil – starting right here in Kirkwall.’

She grimaced. ‘That’s horrible. How dare they treat us like this? They have no right!’

Anders smiled inwardly at her indignation. He was sure she’d have to act once he’d told her. She was still a mage, after all, though he hadn’t seen her use magic for quite a while. Fenris’s influence, no doubt.

‘I knew mages weren’t safe, even here, but this takes things to another level. I understand why you came to me,’ Hawke said, unfolding her arms. 

‘Your status as Champion of Kirkwall protects you, but I’m not sure that status extends to all your friends – or acquaintances,’ he said wryly. ‘People may be more sympathetic to apostates in this city, but lately I’m constantly watching my back. It’s surely only a matter of time before they beat down my door and take me away too.’

‘Well you’re not exactly always subtle in your behaviour, Anders,’ Hawke admonished, her attitude hardening once more. ‘The Templars could hardly fail to notice you. Every time Justice goes rogue, it gets harder and harder for your friends to protect you, and for those who don’t know you not to think of you as an abomination.’

‘And sometimes, even the people who know me – like your boyfriend’, Anders said, hurt, with subtle emphasis on the last word, but Hawke could take the hint. She didn’t respond to his barb, but instead turned away to stare out the window. This wasn’t an easy decision to make.

Waiting for a response but receiving none, Anders continued. ‘You know, you and I could have … I mean, it’s a shame that …’ His voice trailed off into an awkward silence.

Hawke turned back to face him, her brow furrowed. ‘Don’t, please,’ she sighed. ‘This is hard enough without you bringing up the past again.’ They had kissed once a long time ago, when Fenris was avoiding her and Anders had conveniently appeared at her estate. It was no more than a consolation, a question waiting to be answered, but nothing else, at least from her point of view. Now he was here, not merely putting her in a difficult position, but acting like a simple kiss was reason enough to kindle a passionate love affair. 

‘I often wonder what might have happened, had Fenris not come back into your life. Don’t you ever wonder?’ 

He came closer, his amber eyes fixed on her longingly. He’d refused a chair, which meant she was forced to look up at him to continue their conversation, but her feet were still aching from the previous day’s exploits, and she was reluctant to stand. For a second she thought back to that night, the softness of his lips on hers, his stubble scraping her chin. The kiss had been unexpected, but she was ashamed to admit to herself (and only herself – Fenris could never know) that she had enjoyed it more than a little. Anders was a good kisser, and passionate with it, and it had been tempting to wonder what it would be like to feel his large rough hands on her bare skin, moving over her most intimate parts. Then thoughts of Fenris had come flooding into her mind and brought things abruptly to an end.

‘No Anders, I’m sorry, I don’t,’ she said impassively. ‘If there was ever something between us, it ended long ago. But I’d still like us to be friends.’

‘_Friends_,’ he laughed bitterly. ‘There was a time when I counted you as one of my closest friends. You always supported me, and I knew you had my back. Perhaps being a mage, you understood more than most. Perhaps you always will. There was a time when I would have done anything for you. I would have _died_ for you. And you know even now I’ll still be there, fighting at your side, whether you want me there or not.’

Hawke picked at her fingers awkwardly, feeling embarrassed. She hadn’t meant to upset Anders, but his general neediness and constant clashing with Fenris made him difficult to be around. Underneath it all she knew the old Anders was in there somewhere, only it seemed impossible now to separate him from Justice. Perhaps she should have told him to leave Kirkwall a long time ago, but secretly she still had some hope that he might not be beyond redemption. Things had never been simple with Anders – but they were never simple with Fenris, either. She couldn’t believe she was thinking it, but she was starting to wish that they were both a bit more like Varric. At least he was reassuringly straightforward.

‘I’d never want you to sacrifice yourself for me. But we face danger every day – that’s the risk we all take. You made that choice when you first joined me.’ The pain on Anders’ face was plain to see, and she looked away, forcing herself to utter the words, ‘But I do still need you – I need you by my side.’

Anders’ smile had now become a rictus. ‘You _need_ me? You have no idea what it’s been like for me all this time, watching you with him. Yet we don’t always get what we wish for, do we, Hawke?’ He began to pace up and down the room distractedly. 

Hawke’s patience snapped, and she got to her feet. ‘My personal life has nothing to do with it. _You_ came here and put me in this position. It’s hardly fair. I’m not responsible for your pain.’

‘No, perhaps it isn’t fair,’ he sighed. ‘But was it fair that the Blight took your sister? That your mother was kidnapped and murdered?’

She frowned at this, but let him continue. He was getting into his speech with some zeal.

‘Is it fair that mages are taken by the Templars every day, imprisoned and made tranquil? Nothing is fair in life. My request is not unreasonable given that we’re dealing with life and death every day. You say you need me – but I need _you_. I can’t do this without you.’ 

He moved forward, and leaned against the chair with renewed vigour. ‘But I need an answer. Will you come with me to the Gallows? I need to find out if this plot is true, and expose it. It could save lives.’

Hawke collapsed back into her chair wearily. What choice did she have? ‘All right, Anders, you’ve made your point. I can’t abandon you. But Fenris is going to have something to say about this. He doesn’t even like me practising magic – I suppose I can’t blame him given his past. And he might even try to talk me out of it – or worse, insist on coming with me. Either way, it’s going to give me one big headache.’

Anders smiled and reached for her hand, and she hesitated before letting him pull it towards him. He squeezed it gently – not a soft smooth hand, but a weather-beaten hand with calluses from wielding a sword – before reluctantly letting go. ‘I know it won’t be easy for you, and for that I am sorry. I can’t say that I’d welcome him with open arms should he choose to join us, but I’d be grateful for the extra man. Thank you, Hawke, you don’t know what this means to me.’ 

Once he was gone, she pulled her fingers roughly through her tangled hair. She was _so_ tired, everything hurt. Why did the men in her life always have to complicate things? She didn’t have these problems with Isabela. She left the room and stood in front of the large mirror in her bedroom, and looked at herself, noting the dark shadows under her eyes and the paleness of her skin. Slowly, she began to remove her clothing, until she was entirely naked. She looked at herself carefully, casting her eyes over her full breasts, paying no mind to the numerous bruises that covered her body. They weren’t all from fighting, of course – some were from Fenris – and she smiled as she remembered their last night of passion. On her hip, there was the scar from the wound she’d suffered fighting Danarius. And as she turned to look at herself in profile, just as she’d thought, there was a definite curve to her stomach. It was barely noticeable, not to anyone who didn’t know her body intimately, but it was definitely no longer flat. 

‘Oh Maker,’ she sighed, feeling a mixture of elation and fear. She just hoped Fenris would be happy at the news. Would he want to bring a child into such a cruel and dangerous world?

Then her heart skipped a beat, and with a start she remembered her conversation with Anders. She was going to have some explaining to do once Fenris came back.


	18. A revelation

‘Are you going to be much longer, Varric?’ sighed Fenris. He’d regretted his decision to accompany the dwarf on his shopping expedition almost as soon as they had arrived at the market. Varric’s penchant for spending a long time looking for (and finding) knick-knacks was rather tedious. Fenris couldn’t understand why anyone would want such junk. He preferred the minimalist approach; not that he could remember his life before slavery, but never having been allowed possessions meant that he was not in the habit of accumulating things unless they had a clear purpose. He couldn’t know for sure, but he assumed that he had always been this way. He was a practical person, and he found keeping things meticulously ordered reassuring. It therefore amused and confounded him when Varric or Isabela were excited by some trinket. Thankfully, Hawke was almost as practical as himself, otherwise he might have found it difficult to live with her. She had made little or no improvements to the estate since the day she moved in there, though it was lack of time more than anything. He had found it difficult to resist the urge to start cleaning the rooms, and had already thought of various ways to improve the décor. To his horror, he wondered if he was becoming domesticated.

Varric smiled at Fenris’s question and extended his hand, the fingers folded tightly into his palm to protect whatever lay therein. ‘Look at this, Broody. Even you might find this interesting.’ He opened his fingers to reveal something small and blue. 

Fenris raised his eyebrows, his interest piqued, and looked down at what Varric was holding. ‘What stone is that?’ he enquired. 

‘It’s a sapphire,’ Varric explained. ‘A small one, I’ll grant you that, but a sapphire nonetheless.’

‘It’s … it’s the colour of Marian’s eyes,’ said Fenris thoughtfully, as he picked it out of his companion’s broad palm. He turned to the merchant. ‘How much for this?’

‘How much to put it in a setting for a brooch?’ Varric interrupted, as Fenris turned to him with a quizzical smile on his face. ‘Trust me, Fenris, she’s going to love this!’

Fenris turned pale as the merchant named his price, but paid him without question. As the man pocketed his coin, he looked at the dwarf, impressed. ‘Come on Varric, how do you know about these things?’

Varric chuckled. ‘What, just because I’ve got a face only a mother could love, you think I don’t know what ladies like? I’ve lived long enough, after all. Don’t ever tell her, but I did have a life _before_ Bianca.’

Fenris grinned at this. Varric was a most agreeable companion, and despite his diminutive stature, he was still fit enough and fast enough to keep up with the tall elf. And Fenris didn’t merely have to tolerate him, like he did most people. He might even say he enjoyed the dwarf’s company.

Fenris had agreed to return to the market stall later that day to pick up the brooch, and he and Varric headed back towards Hawke’s estate at a brisk pace. 

At the same moment they were heading back, Isabela was approaching Hawke's front door. She hadn’t seen her friend in days, no doubt because she had been holed up in there with Fenris. And who could blame her? She was quite jealous – perhaps because she had seen very little of her friend of late – or perhaps because she had rarely experienced such an intimate relationship of her own. Hawke was clearly on to a good thing.

‘Well, how was the party?’ asked Isabela, throwing herself into a chair, her face lit up by the prospect of some gossip. ‘I’ve barely caught sight of you since, and I’m just dying to hear about Prince Whatshisname. I’ve heard he’s quite the catch.’

‘Sebastian, you mean, and he’s not on the market. He’s a priest,’ Hawke said with some amusement, looking at Isabela’s eager face.

‘A priest? Oh, even better! What does he look like?’

Hawke thought back to the night of the party, and her cheeks flushed as she remembered Sebastian’s attentiveness, his long tanned fingers touching her skin. It was an understatement to say that he was a very good-looking man indeed.

‘He’s very handsome. He has dark hair and deep blue eyes, a long straight nose and full lips. He’s very charming.’

‘Mmm, sounds just my type! I wouldn’t mind helping him break his vows.’

‘Bela, isn’t everyone your type?’ Hawke said with a teasing grin. 

‘I’m going to ignore that comment. It sounds like you were quite taken with him. And what did he think of my darling Hawke?’

‘He was very sweet. He didn’t act like a priest at all actually,’ Hawke said wistfully. She didn’t mention that she had enjoyed the flirting – or that she had neglected to tell Fenris quite how charming Sebastian had been.

‘That’s no surprise. Have you seen you in that dress? Eye-popping is the word. I’d love to borrow it. Imagine Zevran seeing me in that!’ In secret, Isabela had renewed her acquaintance with the Tevinter elf. She knew it was probably a mistake, but she had to know if he still felt the same. He’d told her that he was coming back to the Free Marches soon, and she could barely contain her excitement.

‘You’re still hung up on him? Bela, that was ages ago. And I’m not even sure the dress would fit your chest – ow!’ she cried, as Isabela kicked her disgruntledly. 

‘You’re not exactly flat-chested yourself you know,’ Isabela grumbled. ‘And why should you have all the fun? In fact, is it my imagination or have you put some weight on? Enjoying those Orlesian party treats a bit too much?’

‘Thanks very much. But if you’ve noticed, I bet Fenris has too, not that he’s mentioned it. I think I’m pregnant.’

‘WHAT? That’s amazing!’ Isabela’s eyes grew wide. ‘I mean – are you happy about this?’

‘I don’t know,’ Hawke admitted. ‘I pushed it to the back of my mind, even though I should have faced up to it the moment I realised I was late.’

‘Haven’t you – you know, been using protection?’

‘Every time, except just once. Or maybe twice. We might have got a bit … carried away.’

‘Well, it only takes the once. It’s not a foolproof method, anyway,’ Isabela said thoughtfully, her mind elsewhere. 

‘No, it isn’t,’ Hawke sighed. ‘And there’s something else, too. Anders came to see me earlier.’

‘Anders? What did he want?’ Isabela said, raising an eyebrow. She wasn’t surprised he was still finding excuses to pay Hawke a visit. Was everybody in this city obsessed with the Champion of Kirkwall?

‘He wanted a favour. He thinks that Ser Alrik is plotting to effectively lobotomise all mages, starting with those in Kirkwall. He called it the “Tranquil solution.” And he wants my help. I can’t blame him, really – I suppose there are few others he could turn to.’

‘Sounds terrifying. I suppose you couldn’t really refuse. Though I thought you two were barely speaking. What’s Fenris going to think about all this?’

‘I can guess. I don’t think Fenris would tolerate me even being friends with Anders. But I’m a _mage_. I can’t let this happen. And what if in the end they come for me as well? There’s no guarantee I’ll be safe.’

‘If I’ve learned anything in life, it’s that there are no guarantees,’ agreed Isabela. ‘So when are you going?’

‘I don’t know,’ sighed Hawke. ‘I hadn’t thought that far ahead, though I suppose it’ll have to be soon. And now – this,’ she motioned to her stomach. ‘I guess there’s nothing for it – I’ll have to tell Fenris.’ 

‘Tell me what?’

Hawke spun around to find Fenris and Varric watching her from the doorway. As her heart hammered painfully in her chest, she wondered how long they had been standing there. She hadn’t planned on an audience. Fenris was looking at her with a mixture of surprise and confusion. She assumed he hadn’t heard the bit about Anders, otherwise surely he’d be scowling instead.

‘I, uh, would prefer to talk in private about this,’ she said, staring hard at Varric and Isabela.

‘Aww, you’re not making us leave _again_ are you? Just when things are getting interesting!’ whined Isabela. ‘I practically just got here. And it’s not like I don’t already know.’

‘Know what?’ Fenris’s eyes narrowed. ‘Why does she know about private matters before I do?’

‘She happened to be here,’ Hawke said sheepishly, ‘And I didn’t tell her – she guessed.’

‘_She_ has a name, you know,’ Isabela said huffily, hands on her hips. 

Varric rolled his eyes. ‘Ladies, you’re talking in riddles. Either put me out of my misery or march me out the door. One or the other!’ 

‘All right, I suppose you’d find out anyway sooner or later. Most likely sooner,’ Hawke pursed her lips, as Isabela glared back at her. ‘I’m pregnant.’

‘Oh boy, I was not expecting that,’ Varric said, open-mouthed, as Fenris pushed past him. He came close to Hawke, and put his hands on her shoulders. She looked up at him embarrassedly.

‘Is … is it true?’

‘Yes. I mean, I think so. I’ve been feeling sick, and my courses are late.’

He said nothing, but walked to the other side of the room, running his fingers distractedly through his hair. He looked perturbed, Varric thought. He hoped for Hawke’s sake that the elf would take the news well. Otherwise, the nug shit was about to hit the fan.

‘Fen? You are pleased, aren’t you?’ There was a tremor in her voice. She hoped she wasn’t going to cry in front of everybody.

‘I just need a moment, Marian. It’s a lot to take in.’

‘You and me both,’ she muttered under her breath.

‘Does this mean you two are getting married?’ Isabela asked sweetly, with a sly look on her face.

‘Marriage?’ Fenris span around. ‘Have you two been talking about marriage as well?’

‘No! She’s just winding you up! I guess she’s got nothing better to do,’ Hawke said acidly, looking daggers at the pirate captain. The object of her animosity simply smirked. 

‘C’mon Rivaini, I think it’s time for us to leave,’ said Varric, and he walked towards the hallway.

‘Ugh, so boring,’ Isabela complained. She reluctantly followed him through the doorway, then turned back towards Hawke. ‘You know, you’re not the only one with news. Zevran’s coming back for me.’

‘Zevran?’ Hawke looked up, intrigued, but the sound of the door indicated her friends had already gone. 

Once they were alone, Fenris turned back towards Hawke. ‘It’s going to be all right, you know.’

‘You really believe that?’ she said, the last word coming out in a high-pitched squeak, but the relief in her voice was palpable. He came towards her, lifted her chin with a long finger, and kissed her softly on the lips.

‘Yes, I do,’ he answered. ‘Because I am here. If I had any possessions that I cared about, they were taken from me when I became a slave. And I wasn’t allowed anything of my own in the Tevinter Imperium. But now, together, we’ve created something incredibly precious that will bind you to me forever.’ He rested his hand on her stomach, his fingers stroking its curve. ‘I could not have asked for more, my lady Hawke.’

‘Well, when you put it like that,’ she said, melting at his words. ‘But doesn’t it bother you that the baby will look more human in appearance?’

He closed his eyes in thoughtfulness for a few seconds as he considered her question. ‘I never thought I’d be in a position to have children of my own, so I can’t say I’ve thought about it before.’ He opened his eyes and looked at her with warmth. ‘But no – it doesn’t bother me. I don’t remember much of my past. I have no heritage that I’m aware of, and I’m not Dalish, so perhaps it’s less important to me than it would otherwise be. In any case, whatever this child looks like, it will still be a part of me, and it will be mine. It will be _ours_.’

‘And with any luck, he’ll be as handsome as his father,’ Hawke grinned, letting her fingers rest for a moment on one very shapely elven ear. 

‘He?’ Fenris raised an eyebrow in amusement, though his cheeks flushed at the compliment. ‘Do you know something I don’t, Marian?’

‘Just thinking that it would be nice if we had a smaller version of you running about the house, that’s all,’ she said, wrapping her arms around him in a tight embrace.

Just then, Dog bounded into the house and, spotting Hawke, hurled himself at her with full force, taking her so much by surprise that she stumbled and nearly fell to the ground, Fenris just catching her in time.

‘Be careful what you wish for,’ Fenris laughed, as the mabari barked and pawed his mistress excitedly. ‘We already have one over-exuberant pup in this house. Are you sure you want more?’


	19. Divided loyalties

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'Festis bei umo canavarum' = Tevene for 'You will be the death of me'.
> 
> For those who are interested, I used this Dragon Age wiki page for various Tevene phrases:  
https://dragonage.fandom.com/wiki/Tevene

Before the sun was up the next day, Hawke found herself coming clean to Fenris about Anders’ visit, and the choice she had made. There really was no time to delay, given that Anders was waiting for Hawke to confirm arrangements. They needed to infiltrate the Circle of Magi, effectively a prison for those mages who were unfortunate enough to be taken from their families from a young age. This was housed within the Gallows, an isolated fortress just by the Kirkwall docks. It was where Bethany ended up after being taken by the Templars, and had committed suicide rather than be made tranquil. Hawke wasn’t looking forward to revisiting the scene of her sister’s death, but she knew there were bigger things at stake.

Anders had discovered a secret way into the Gallows via a network of tunnels that led to the dungeon, and had sent a message enquiring why he had not heard from her and urging her to make contact. She knew what Fenris’s reaction was likely to be, but had downed half a bottle of red wine before he entered the room. Yet even the courage that the wine gave her couldn’t have adequately prepared her for what happened next.

‘It’s irrational, and irresponsible!’ Fenris cried, dragging his fingers through his shock of white hair so quickly that Hawke was surprised he didn’t actually tear out some strands in the process. ‘I can’t believe you’re actually thinking of doing this. _Venhedis_, you’re carrying our child!’ 

‘_Our child_ is most likely the size of a bean,’ Hawke said tartly, as she watched Fenris march up and down the room like a man possessed. ‘I’m not going to put my life on hold for a bean!’

‘Void take you, that’s not the point! You’re not going!’ Fenris snarled, his eyes unnaturally bright with anger. Even for Hawke, who knew him better than anyone, it was unnerving to see this side of him, so rarely had she encountered it. His markings shimmered, and for one thrilling second she imagined him unleashing all the power of the lyrium infused under his skin, his fist pulverising bone and skin like a hot knife through butter. The wild animal inside him had been tethered for too long, and in moments like this it was perilously close to breaking free. She knew she had pushed him close to the edge, but she was too stubborn to back down. That was the problem – they were both far too stubborn.

‘I damn well am! And you can’t stop me!’ 

‘_Festis bei umo canavarum_,’ he muttered, clenching his fists in frustration. He turned, picked up the half-full wine bottle that was sitting on the table, and hurled it against the wall, where it smashed into tiny pieces. Hawke flinched, though she was standing on the opposite side of the room.

‘You might have saved some of that for me,’ she admonished, watching streaks of red wine trickle down and pool on the floor, though she was just glad that he hadn’t thrown it at her. ‘That was our last bottle! And watch it, I do understand some Tevene, you know.’ 

He glared at the wall in silence until his glowing markings subsided, before turning around. His eyes glittered a beautiful emerald green, but Hawke could still see the fury in them. It had been a long time since she had felt the fine line between being the object of Fenris’ affection, or his ire.

‘Fine! Fine. If I can’t stop you, then I’m coming with you. And on that, I _will_ not compromise. But this is pure idiocy.’ 

Hawke’s shoulders sagged in relief. ‘I expected as much. And I’ll be all right, I promise.’

Fenris sighed. He wanted to tell her that he wasn’t so much concerned for her safety – though really that went without saying – he resented that she was choosing to help Anders, of all people. He’d never been comfortable with Hawke’s association with the mages, and her choosing to support Anders at such a dangerous time left him extremely uncomfortable, and with unanswered questions. She was risking a lot to support someone that he’d assumed she could barely tolerate. Had she renewed her friendship with him? And what might be the repercussions? It seemed foolhardy at best; at worst, blindly stupid. But he reserved most of his anger for Anders himself. That selfish mage would lead the person Fenris cared about more than anyone in all the world down an incredibly dangerous path, and what if that meant her own destruction – and the destruction of their child – as well as himself? He should have stopped pursuing the matter then and there, but there was a voice inside him that urged him on.

‘You don’t know that. And what if this is just the beginning? What if Anders asks you for another favour, and another? Where does it end, Marian?’

‘I … I don’t know,’ she admitted, unable to meet his eye. ‘I just don’t think he has many friends … there’s not many people willing to look out for him, that’s all.’

‘And why do you think that is?’ Fenris asked, raising one perfectly-shaped black eyebrow. Damn it, she thought, he could be annoyingly self-righteous at times.

‘Sometimes Fen, you just love to take the moral high ground,’ she complained, conveniently avoiding the question. ‘Not every issue is as black and white as you make it out to be.’

‘I disagree. In some cases, it is. This being one of them,’ he opined in a voice like gravel.

‘Admit it – this all comes back to me being a mage, doesn’t it?’ Her temper was growing now, and she stood facing him defensively, her arms folded and her colour rising. The atmosphere was belligerent, and Dog, who had again bounded into the room at the sound of his mistress’s voice, flattened his ears and pushed his nose into the ground, trying to make himself as small as possible. 

Something inside Fenris snapped, and before he knew it the words were pouring out of his mouth, unchecked and with such fury that he spat them out as though glad to be rid of them at long last.

‘I’ve never hidden my distrust of mages. This is not news to you! Given half the chance they’d take over and we’d be completely at their mercy. Anders is the epitome of all that’s wrong with mages, with magic. I don’t understand why you want to associate with him – it completely undermines everything I believe in. Would you really choose him over me?’

‘Magic can be useful. You know that as well as I. How many times has it saved our lives? And not all mages are irresponsible. I’m a mage, whether you like it or not. You trust _me_, don’t you? But this is not about choosing one of you! My friendship with him and our relationship are not mutually exclusive!’

Fenris had been sitting down, but at these words he stood up, the chair clattering noisily to the ground behind him. ‘Friendship? You call it a friendship? I was right to be angry! What else are you hiding from me? I do not want you near that … that … abomination!’ And he turned and punched the side of the cabinet so hard that it disintegrated into splinters, bits of wood flying everywhere. He was panting hard with the exertion, and Hawke backed away from him as his shoulders shook with pent-up rage. The last time she’d seen Fenris this angry was after he’d killed Hadriana. His tattoos were glowing with a white-blue light again, and the air around him seemed to blur and hum with electricity. Even the sconces burning on the walls flickered and danced as though reacting to the heavily-charged atmosphere. In that moment, he was exactly what he appeared to be – a beautiful, yet deadly weapon. She swallowed, her mouth painfully dry, and chose her words carefully before responding. 

‘You have to understand – I’m begging you,’ she said quietly, not bothering to hide the desperation in her voice. ‘I wouldn’t do this unless I felt I had no choice. I couldn’t sleep at night if I didn’t help him – imagine all those people in danger! What does my life matter against all theirs? _One life is worth the risk_.’

Fenris searched Hawke’s face, but all he saw there was pure and honest emotion, and, feeling ashamed, all the anger coursing through his veins suddenly ebbed away. She wore her heart on her sleeve so obviously that it pained him to see it. Such a big heart, that sought to protect all who remained dear to her. How could he ever doubt this woman, this incredible human being, whose motives had always been transparent, and incontestable? He had promised to care for her and now he was driving her away. He could see from her expression that she was wary of him. His temper had got the better of him one time too many. 

‘And you have to understand,’ he said softly, taking her arm with incredible gentleness, ‘that to me, your life is _never_ worth the risk.’ He stroked her face lovingly, as though the explosive argument between them had never happened, though the broken cabinet, shards of glass and puddle of wine behind them pointed to the contrary. She began to relax when his hand moved to her stomach, his fingers moving over their unborn child. ‘I would protect both of you with my own life. Nothing is more precious.’

Hawke collapsed against him, her emotions spent. There was too much responsibility on her shoulders, and now a child as well to complicate matters. Sometimes she just wanted to curl up into a ball and do nothing. She felt Fenris’ arms wrap around her reassuringly. She was still troubled by his violent reaction, though she knew he would never harm a hair on her head. She wished she had someone else to confide in – not that she had ever been able to do that with her mother, but Bethany had been a good listener, and she missed her sister now more than ever. She didn’t feel she could talk to Isabela, particularly as the Rivaini now seemed preoccupied with Zevran, but in any case she didn’t think she would be particularly receptive to a discussion about relationships. She thought back to Sebastian Vael, and she wondered if he was the type one could easily confide in. She didn’t know him well enough to be certain, though he had a confident air about him that inspired trust and respect, without being arrogant. It must be rather comforting to be married to Andraste, being so sure of purpose and clear in thought, free of distractions. Hawke wondered if she had somehow missed her true calling in life.

And Anders. He’d once had her complete respect, and she’d deeply admired him for his healing work and devotion to helping the most poor and vulnerable in the city. She thought back to a few years ago when she had first gone to the Deep Roads, a vast network of underground tunnels that were once part of the dwarven empire, but had long since been abandoned after the First Blight. Most adventurers were not foolhardy enough to venture down there – except Marian Hawke and her party of course. She couldn’t deny that the prime motivation had been money, given that she and her family were virtually penniless after a year of indentured servitude. It didn’t hurt either that her status was greatly improved after the expedition. She’d also brought back an impressive haul of treasure, which her mother at least grudgingly acknowledged. 

It was also the first expedition with Anders, and the moment she had begun to really get to know him. At that point he was an unknown quantity, but he’d been recruited at the last minute because of his knowledge of the area, plus admittedly he was useful to make up the numbers. She hadn’t regretted it for one moment, as the mage proved adept at both sensing and eliminating the darkspawn that lurked in the seemingly neverending passages, not to mention ogres, demons and shades. He was a valuable companion to have. And despite everything, she still empathised with him. They had the same kind of background, growing up. They were both underdogs, rejected by society, both under threat of being taken back to the Circle. They had the same strong beliefs in fairness, in protecting the vulnerable against those who would take advantage – only Anders’ methods were much more unorthodox than hers.

He had warmed to Hawke instantly, sensing a kindred spirit, and right from the start she hadn’t fail to notice how he doted on her words, gave her warm smiles, pressed her to stay for a drink when she was tired and had nothing but sleep on her mind. She had only offered companionship, but he was kind, and he was loyal, qualities that were all too often lacking in so many of the people that she had thought were her friends. In the end, they had invariably taken advantage of her or betrayed her – they always did. 

For all these reasons and more, Fenris would never understand why she gave Anders more time than perhaps he deserved. There was no point trying to explain further, because it would only serve to make him angrier, and she did not want to alienate the man that she was still sure she would spend the rest of her life with. He had been through so much, been used and abused against his will – he deserved a chance of peace at long last. But the decision had been made, and she was going to the Gallows, whether he liked it or not. 

She rested her head on Fenris’s shoulder, the rough fibres of his tunic tickling her nose. ‘We are the makers of our own destiny,’ she finally uttered.

He looked at her with amusement. ‘I thought the Maker controlled our fate? Don’t tell me you’re losing your faith?’

‘I’m not sure I had much faith to start with. The only things I really believe in are tangible, things I can trust. Like you and me.’

‘Well then,’ he said, ‘that’s enough for me. I put _my_ trust in you, and our unborn child, for the days ahead – and what shall come to pass, will.'__


	20. The Gallows

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoy the update!

Hawke, Fenris, Varric and Anders were standing over the entrance to a tunnel that led to the ominous-looking structure called the Gallows. Isabela had not been seen since she had marched out of Hawke’s home two days prior, which was probably just as well – they didn’t need any distractions. 

Varric kicked a stone along the ground and it bounced into the opening, the sound echoing around the large and seemingly endless caverns that stretched before them. ‘Quiet!’ Hawke hissed. ‘Do you want to invite trouble?’ The dwarf grinned sheepishly at her. ‘Sorry freckles, I wasn’t thinking.’

_Freckles?_ Hawke mouthed at him quizzically, as Fenris came level with her and whispered into her ear. ‘Are you sure it’s wise for us to be here? Especially considering who we’re with.’ By _who_, Hawke knew he meant Anders. 

‘It would help if you didn’t ask questions like that,’ Hawke responded impatiently. ‘But we’ll be careful.’

‘But what if the Templars come after you after this? What if I can’t protect you?’

‘I don’t believe in _what ifs_,’ Hawke said firmly, looking at her lover with a serious expression, then relaxing, as she saw the worry etched into his face. ‘It’s not like you to worry so much, Fen. What’s bothering you?’

‘Isn’t it obvious? There’s a lot more to worry about now,’ he said, motioning to her stomach. His voice began to rise as he became more animated. ‘What if we don’t find any evidence of this “Tranquil Solution”? I don’t trust mages, and I _don’t_ trust magic.’

Anders had his back to them, so didn’t see Fenris’s gesture, but rather than responding angrily, as Hawke had expected, she was surprised to hear him speak in an unwavering voice, confidently and with authority, so that everyone turned to look at him. ‘Andraste said magic should serve man, and not rule him. But I’ve yet to find a mage who wanted to rule anything.’

‘Then you have a short memory,’ said Fenris, his voice dripping with sarcasm. ‘Or did you receive one blow on the head too many in our encounter with Danarius?’

‘There’s a difference between the magisters and ordinary mages, Fen,’ Hawke said, realising at the same moment that she should perhaps have kept silent. ‘My own experience should be proof of that.’

‘I have no doubt that some magisters are good and noble men, strong enough to resist temptation,’ Fenris said, surprising Hawke with his candour, ‘But how many temptations do you wish to offer a man before he will give in?’ He looked directly at Anders as he said this, but this time with no emotion in his voice, and she was grateful when Anders looked away without commenting.

Since his violent outburst at home, Fenris had been painstakingly careful to keep his feelings in check, sometimes to the point of reducing his conversation to single-word answers. Though on one level, Hawke was grateful, she had been bothered by his lack of engagement. Here, in the tunnels, she noted with relief, it seemed that he was opening up to her again. They were going to have to work it out between them, but it would have to wait until later – if it all went to plan. 

She turned to Fenris. ‘Look, if it makes you feel any better …’ and she pulled up the scarf she was wearing and wrapped over her nose, so that only her eyes were visible.

Fenris looked at her brilliant blue eyes peeping out at him and grinned. ‘A perfect disguise. Do you have one for all of us, by any chance? Because I’m quite sure the Templars will know it’s you just from the company you keep. Perhaps with luck, we’ll only be mistaken for thieves and not conspirators.’ 

Before Hawke could come up with a witty retort, Anders turned back towards them, a stern expression on his face. ‘Hawke, I – I didn’t tell you. I’ve been involved with an … underground resistance. Mages, living free in Kirkwall, who help others escape.’

‘I assumed as much, Anders, after our last conversation,’ Hawke said, but Anders interrupted her. ‘Look, I can’t tell you any more, for your sake and theirs. You have too much involvement with the Guard and nobility.’

‘Surely you don’t mean … Carver? I trust him.’ Blood ran thicker than water, after all. 

‘Well Hawke, not all siblings are as reliable as yours,’ said Varric glumly. It was true – his own brother Bartrand had betrayed them during the Deep Roads expedition, locking them in and leaving them all to die rather than share his wealth. He had not been seen since.

‘You can say that again,’ Fenris nodded. ‘Sometimes I think I was blessed when I lost all memories of my previous life. Revisiting the past has so far brought me nothing but trouble.’ 

Anders looked briefly annoyed at this interruption to the conversation, then continued. ‘Hawke, I – I know returning to this place might raise painful memories for you. I just want you to know how much I appreciate you being here.’

Hawke smiled but said nothing, mindful of Fenris behind her. Anders didn’t know about the child yet – he wasn’t present when the others had inadvertently found out, and she hadn’t found a good moment to tell him. Not that there was really a good moment. And not that it was really any of his business. But there was enough of their friendship left that she still cared what he thought. She also hoped her pregnancy might at long last get him to let go of the fantasy that they might one day be together, and finally move on.

‘Come on guys, we’ve a way to go yet,’ said Varric, scratching his head. ‘Doesn’t anyone know any jokes to pass the time, or did everyone suddenly lose their sense of humour?’

Hawke waited until Anders had moved further along before quipping, ‘I think I lost my sense of humour when I started puking up my guts,’ and Varric chuckled as the tension finally broke. ‘Well at least you’re puking up your guts for a good reason this time Hawke, instead of overdoing it with the wine!’ A low growl emitted from Fenris, though Varric noticed a smile hovering on his lips. So Broody wasn’t completely humourless, it seemed.

‘Heard the one about the bartender who raced nugs for a living?’ Varric asked, but to his dismay, the others were already walking away. ‘That’s the trouble – nobody appreciates a good story anymore,’ he sighed, as he struggled to match Anders’ pace. ‘Hey Blondie, wait for me!’

As Varric moved away, Fenris pulled Marian aside for a second. ‘Marian, the sickness – you didn’t tell me it was that bad,’ he said, his face frowning in concern. 

Hawke flushed. ‘It wasn’t, Fen – not until recently, anyhow. Look, I’m all right, honestly. It isn’t all the time, it’s just some days I struggle to keep food down. But I’ve got some herbs from Anders, and ginger to make tea – it’s helping.’

‘Humph,’ said Fenris, reluctant to acknowledge that Anders sometimes came in useful. ‘Well, if you’re sure …’

‘I am sure. I’m ok, honestly.’ She gave his arm a little squeeze, and he responded by brushing his fingers across her stomach tenderly. It was a brief gesture but carried much intimacy with it, and her heart quickened at his touch. He looked down at her, black eyebrows framing his serious expression. 

‘My love … I realise that now is neither the time nor the place, but I must tell you. What happened the other day – how I reacted. You have to know that I’ll never let that happen again.’

Hawke bit her lip self-consciously. ‘Well at least you took it out on the furniture and not me,’ she joked, but Fenris didn’t smile back. ‘Uh, Fen …’

‘I’m _serious_. I’m not used to having these intense emotions … these _feelings_,’ he said, with some exasperation. ‘Sometimes I’m afraid when I’m around you.’

‘Afraid – of me?’ she asked, incredulous, but Fenris quickly shook his head.

‘Since that first night I spent with you, I’ve had flashes of memories, or what I assumed to be memories, always triggered by the intensity of my emotions. I’m navigating blind on an uncharted path. And when I’m with you, I’m afraid, because I feel like I’m losing control of myself. Because I love you so _much_.’ The words caught in his throat, and he wrapped his arms around her then, tightly, as though afraid she might disappear. He ran his fingers through her hair urgently, and her insides turned to liquid as it dawned on her that he was trying to soothe her just as much as himself.

He stood back from her, and gazed deeply into her eyes. ‘You’re beautiful. And you’re incredible. And I’m the luckiest man in the world. I just wanted you to know.’

Hawke felt hot tears pricking at the edge of her eyes, and she sniffed loudly. ‘Fen, it’s all right. I love you so much too. And we’ll … we’ll navigate this path together. You don’t have to do it on your own.’

Fenris reached for her, but the moment was cut short by shouting up ahead, and she instinctively grabbed her staff, which she had brought with her for the first time in a long time – somehow, it had just felt right. ‘Come on, we’ll lose the others if we’re not careful,’ he said, grabbing her hand and breaking into a run.

As they rounded the corner together, she saw Anders and Varric standing before a number of men who were blocking the way. Of course – lyrium smugglers. Hadn’t Anders said that the tunnel was built by the smugglers in order to service the Templars’ lyrium addictions? They wouldn’t get out of this one by talking – the only choice was to fight their way through.

As the group rushed forward, Hawke saw a ball of ice forming between Anders’ fingers – Carta mercenaries were particularly vulnerable to the cold. Her own fingers itched to cast magic – not using it had been like trying to breathe without air. She hesitated for a moment before directing a Deep Freeze spell towards them. Though some of them resisted, she was pleased to see most of the smugglers rendered immobile. After that, it was easy enough for her companions to cut the rest down, and as the last one was dispatched she finally breathed a sigh of relief.

‘Nice handiwork Hawke!’ Anders remarked, and she couldn’t resist grinning back at him. ‘Yes, nice handiwork,’ Fenris echoed sardonically, and she surprised both of them by sticking her tongue out at him. It was the right gesture though, as to her delight, she was rewarded with a snort of laughter from her lover. The ice had definitely thawed, even on something as contentious as her using magic, and she felt her spirits soar even in the dark and dingy tunnels that stretched before them.

Unfortunately after that, there were also some giant spiders to deal with which dropped without warning from the cavern ceilings, much to Hawke’s dismay, so it was a good while later and a lot deeper into the dungeon before they finally came across the Templars. Hearing cries, they crept cautiously through a doorway into a courtyard to find a young female mage begging for mercy, surrounded by a group of Templars. She saw a bald, bearded man emerge from the group, and if she’d had any doubt as to who it was, she heard Anders hiss ‘Ser Alrik!’ behind her. 

‘No … please,’ the girl begged, her voice filled with terror as she backed away from the man advancing on her, ‘I haven’t done anything wrong! I just wanted to see my mum. No one ever told her where they were taking me!’ 

‘You’re a liar!’ shouted Alrik in a reedy voice, a gleeful look on his face. ‘What do we do to mages who lie?’ He really _was_ creepy, Hawke thought.

The girl, clearly terrified, fell to her knees in supplication. ‘No, please! I’ll do anything! Just don’t make me tranquil!’

Hawke had seen and heard enough, and was about to signal to the others to move forward, when she heard Anders exclaim beside her, as his eyes began to glow with a white-blue light which began to thread across his face. Justice had returned.

Anders – no, Justice – pulled his bow from his back and advanced towards the Templar. ‘You fiends will never touch a mage again,’ it said in a booming voice. You will die! You will all die for these abuses!’

In the event, Ser Alrik did not put up much more of a fight than his fellow Templars, especially with Justice’s help, and Hawke was almost disappointed to see him crumple to the ground after a short bout of fighting. But, to her horror, even after the last man had fallen, rather than fading away, Justice still remained. The young mage still crouched on the ground in terror, as Anders/Justice advanced upon her. 

‘Get away from me you demon,’ she cried, which was about the worst thing she could have said to a man possessed. ‘I am no demon,’ it shouted indignantly. ‘Are you one of _them_, that you would call me such?’ Lighting crackled between Anders’ fingers as the spirit inside him urged vengeance, and in desperation, Hawke cried out to her friend. 

‘Anders, that girl is a mage. We rescued her from being made tranquil. She’s the reason you’re here. Don’t turn on her now!’

‘She is theirs! I can feel their hold on her!’ he shouted, and a ball of blue energy shimmered and burst around him as he raised his hand to destroy her. Quickly, Hawke jumped between them, and brought her staff around. ‘No!’ she shouted, swinging her staff close to his face, and the blue light left Anders as he staggered back. The girl seized her opportunity and fled, as Anders crouched on the ground with his head in his hands. Finally he stood, a look of intense anguish on his face, and turned to face Hawke.

‘Maker, no! I almost killed her! If you weren’t here, I … I have to get out of here,’ and he pushed past her into the tunnels beyond. 

‘Anders, wait!’ Hawke turned to go after him, but Fenris stopped her. ‘Let him go, Marian. He needs to be alone.’

‘I suppose you’re going to say “I told you so” now, aren’t you?’ she sighed, as Anders disappeared from sight. 

‘I’m not about to gloat. Most people wrestle with their demons, but Anders has literally got one inside him until the day he dies. I think now he's starting to regret that decision. You’d better go after him and make sure he’s all right – you are his friend, after all.’

Hawke raised her eyebrow at Fenris’s diplomacy. ‘I never thought I’d hear such reasonable words coming out of your mouth, Fen – especially where Anders is concerned.’ She moved forward and caressed his shoulder, dropping her voice to a whisper. ‘I’ll show you my appreciation later.’

As they turned to leave, the young mage came up to them. ‘Wait, I have to thank you,’ she said. ‘You saved my life. But what was that thing?’

‘He’s no demon. He’s my friend,’ Hawke explained, feeling the weight of Fenris’s gaze on her. ‘And a deeply-troubled man. Look, you must leave this place – find your parents, but leave Kirkwall.’ 

The girl nodded. ‘Yes, I’ll leave. There’s nowhere that’s safe for me now.’ She came closer and touched Hawke’s arm softly. ‘May Andraste herself bless you for your actions today. Fortune must surely shine upon us both. Goodbye.’

As Hawke watched her go, Varric was busy searching the dead bodies, stopping when he reached Ser Alrik’s. ‘Is that really necessary?’ she asked disapprovingly. ‘I really just want to get the hell out of here.’ 

A minute later, Varric handed her a piece of parchment. ‘I think I’ve just found your evidence,’ he said, his broad chest swelling with pride. She quickly scanned the letter. It was written from Ser Alrik to Divine Justinia, expressing his disappointment that she and Knight Commander Meredith had rejected his Tranquil Solution, and urging them to reconsider – a discovery that completely vindicated Anders’ theory.

She gave the dwarf's gloved hand a friendly squeeze. ‘I take it back. This is exactly what we were looking for. You know, I have to give Meredith some credit for this. She’s no fan of the mages, but at least she doesn’t support crackpots like Ser Alrik. This is great, Varric, thank you! I’d better get this to Anders – perhaps then he’ll finally be persuaded that the path he’s pursuing is an unnecessary one.’


End file.
